⤷ 𝓷𝓼𝓯𝔀. 𝟏𝟖+. clit play. p in v. multiple orgasms. 𝟸.𝟷𝓀
“mhm, i don't think s’gonna fit, baby,”
teasing. leon’s teasing. he has to be after he’s spent hours slowly working you open. making you come on his tongue and fingertips, making you drip until your cunt is soaked and puffy, all so you can take him like you want to but he just keeps teasing you and it’s torture
soft sheets stick to your sweaty back where you're laid out in the middle of your bed with your thighs spread and held down by leon’s large hands pressing into the backs of them. he looks huge towering over you, broad shoulders, rippling muscles and his big cock nestled against your aching and very empty pussy
“it will—you said so—please,” you babble mindlessly while you clench around nothing as if that will somehow prove that you’re ready for him. if you aren’t prepared by now then you simply never will be and the latter doesn’t bare thinking about when you need him to fuck you so desperately
leon’s big everywhere, it’s no secret to anyone really, but his cock had to have been crafted by some kind of god. even as he’s grinding along your core, there’s more of him not touching you at any given moment because of his size. he’s long and thick, a double whammy and more than you could have ever dreamt of
“i don’t know,” leon hums, long and drawn out whilst he tips his chin to his chest to look at the spot where your bodies meet. his fingers brush over the backs of your thighs, soothing trembling muscles in a way that only he could manage to do while he’s being so cruel, “don’t want to split you in half, sweetheart,”
you moan wantonly at the idea of it. being fucked full and broken in two on his cock. you want it—no, you need it. writhing against the sheets and begging is getting you nowhere, so you try a slightly different approach instead, “just the tip then, please,” you whimper and tickle your nails against his wrists
for the first time since he spread you wide, leon falters. a groan rumbles through his chest like thunder and his hips buck involuntarily, making his balls slap against your soft skin, “fuck—yeah, okay,” he mumbles under his breath, like you’re not supposed to hear it, and finally starts to pull his hips back
his cock slips down the center of your cunt, aided by the sheer amount of slick that’s coating your skin, and as the fat head of him slots against your hole, you suck in a harsh breath through your teeth. though, when leon still doesn’t give you what you want, you release it in a whiny, “please, please, plea—oh god,”
begs turn into sobs the second leon suddenly presses into you and stretches you around the tip of his cock. it aches in the best way possible and has your back arching away from the mattress as you fight against leon’s hands to squirm and force yourself further down his length
“not god but close enough,” leon grunts as you tighten like a vice, stuck somewhere between trying to pull him closer and push him out at the same time. he’s struggling too and you know it, the urge to sink into you is written in the furrowing of his eyebrows and his cock is twitching with anticipation
it’s not nearly enough to satisfy either of your needs though, just the tip of him was never going to be enough, but as your lips part and a beg for more sits right on the tip of your tongue, you look up at leon and see the smirk spreading across his face and you know exactly what it means straight away, “i can’t,” you pout
leon shrugs, “you can and you will, angel,” he rasps before he leans forwards slightly and spits directly onto your clit. you whine as one of his hands leaves your thigh and then moan when the calloused pad of his thumb spreads his saliva over where you’re very sensitive, “come like this, then i’ll fuck you, promise,”
electricity fizzles up your spine and shudders through your shoulders while you realise that he’s going to drag this out even longer. he’s going to make you come again and there’s nothing that you can do about it—not that you even want to try when you know that he’ll make it feel so good
your eyes pinch shut and your stomach tenses as his rough swipes turn into soft circles, going around and around your bundle of nerves, which causes your cunt to flutter around him. heat erupts in your stomach, a fire that’ll build quickly because it always does when leon’s the firestarter
“you’re just too small sweetheart, need to make sure you can definitely take me,” leon sighs condescendingly and you can feel his eyes on you, studying you, even though yours are still shut and you can’t actually prove that he's looking at you but somehow, you just know
he's good with his hands, he knows what he's doing, so the slide of his thumb over your clit is easy. all you have to do is lay there and take it, focus on the feeling that’s already beginning to coil tight and you’ll come in no time, especially if leon keeps talking filthy whilst burning holes into you
“fuck—wish you could see how tight you are, pretty little hole strugglin’ to take just the head of my cock,” leon murmurs as he ghosts his thumb down the center of your cunt. you huff over the loss of his touch but it’s back within a second and it’s devastating
his fingertip still goes in a circle but this time he’s tracing around the spot where your pussy is squeezing his cock. your delicate skin against his velvety skin, both wet and sticky with your slick and his precome as it leaks out of you. it’s filthy and it makes your head spin
you can’t help but sniffle and rake vicious lines over his wrist, the one that you can still reach and dig your nails into while he teases, and he returns the touch with a bruising hold on your thigh which makes your eyes flutter open, “ruin me, break me—please—just do anything,” you beg up at him
leon’s cock kicks and his jaw clenches, “yeah?” he grunts afterwards and then his thumb is back on your clit and rubbing harsher, uneven, circles, “fuck you full, make you bulge with my cock, mold your cunt to only take me, ruin you for everyone else?” he rambles through deep growls
“yes—fuck yes—you already have!” you wail while your thighs tremble and your clit throbs under his assault. there’s nothing nice in his movements anymore, it’s devolved into a driven need that’s dirty and abrasive and you love it even as it starts to become too much, too fast
everything in your body is screaming no as you hurtle towards another orgasm, the number of which is unknown because you lost the ability to keep count of them hours ago, but you can’t stop and you won’t stop while the ache in your stomach multiplies and your legs try to pull together, though leon won’t let them
“close, angel?” leon asks lowly and you could hear the smirk in his tone even if you couldn’t see it. you nod frantically in response, unable to use any of your words because of him, “yeah? you’re doing so good—fuck, you’re so good, letting me use you like this,” he groans, each word getting you closer
your chest begins to heave, panting in short, desperate breaths as leon’s thumb starts to swipe back and forth quickly over the tip of your twitching clit. you’re right there, teetering on the edge, ready to let bliss take ahold as your brain turns to mush. you just need one final little push and then—
“come baby, come for me,”
it’s such a simple order and yet, your body listens to it before you even have the chance to process it. the coil snaps and you choke on a sob while your entire body tenses and then shudders. your nerve endings burn in every part of your body, a white hot heat that spreads like a wildfire
somewhere distant is leon’s voice is ringing in your ears with a trickle of soft praises, “there you go, that feels better, huh?” he coos and strokes featherlight hearts—you think—into the outside of your thigh. when he let them snap shut, you don’t know, “uh huh—fuck look at you,”
around his cock your cunt has clamped down and pushed him out, leaving your hole empty again but you can’t find it in yourself to care when leon is wringing your orgasm for all that it’s worth by still brushing sporadic circles over your clit until you knock his hand away with a heavy feeling hand
“oh my god,” you whimper and then shiver through the last of the little aftershocks before you wriggle, “you promised,” you whisper, your tone laced with exhaustion while you remind him of the deal that he made and make it known that you do still want him to fuck you properly
leon chuckles as he leans over you and kisses your bottom lip just once before he pulls away. it’s sloppy and probably a little gross but it makes your cheeks flush anyway, “ready, sweet girl?” he asks and nudges his cock against your wet little hole, barely letting himself slip inside before he pulls back
“yes—please!” you blurt, much louder than you meant to but leon is far too focused on pressing into you to realise it. a silent gasp scratches your throat as he gives you back what you already had, the stretch is no longer there but your back still lazily curves away from your sheets over it
he goes slowly, excruciatingly slowly. each centimetre of his length has your jaw dropping further, while you stare up at him with big, wet eyes. every vein that’s strung around his cock drags against your fluttering walls and nothing else could ever compare to that feeling—a feeling that only leon can give you
once he’s half way in, you quickly feel full. it’s like your body simply has nowhere else for him to go because he’s already occupying every space, filling every spot and grinding against it no matter how sensitive it is. that, however, doesn’t stop your pussy from trying to pull him in
“sweeth—fuck—s’like you’re sucking me in,” leon hisses through clenched molars. his muscles are starting to tense and any composure that he had is slipping away rapidly but he’s held on for so long that you can’t blame him, even if it is his own fault, “shit—oh my god, fuck,” he groans
the last inches of his cock seem to sink into you quicker than the first ones did. whether it’s because you really are sucking him in or because he just doesn’t have the capacity to go slowly anymore, you really don’t care whilst your room gets filled with soft whimpers and deep grunts that sound like a song
that is, until leon bottoms out and nails your cervix
everything goes fuzzy. your vision, your nerves, your veins. you’re blindsided and blacking out whilst your pulse pounds against your eardrums and every colour of the rainbow bursts behind your eyes. you’re frozen, stuck in your mind while an orgasm rips through your system like a hurricane
it feels like lightning in every one of your limbs, seizing sore muscles and forcing a wrecked yelp from your lips. you've never felt anything like it and you're not sure you'll ever get close to it ever again. it's like a high that you don't want to chase
“oh—oh, are you coming, again?” leon’s asking but you can’t reply more than a stiff nod and a shove at his hip because he was right, it’s too much and you can’t take him all at once. he goes easily though, pulling out of you carefully whilst he hums a sympathetic, “good girl,”
losing all of his touch at once is horrid but you're too overstimulated for him to risk giving you anything whilst you writhe underneath him and even though you hate feeling empty in the moment, you'll thank him for it later
“too much,” you slur your words after sometime. your heart is still thumping in your chest and your eyelids are too heavy to open but it’s all made better by leon hovering over you and peppering soothing kisses to your burning cheeks, “too much,” you repeat, causing leon to hum and smile against your skin
“i know baby, i’m just far too big for you,”
thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily! send prompts to my ask box!
a/n i proofread this badly because i’m so exhausted so if there’s any mistakes, please ignore them, thank yew, i love you !!!! 𑣲
a mission goes awry when you're infected with a fever virus...and there's only one way to cure you.
warnings: smut, fem!reader, sometime after re4!leon, sex pollen (kind of), possible dubious consent 'cause it's fuck or die but really everyone here wants to be there and consents heartily, feelings realization, confessions, desperate sex turned tender sex, dry humping, fingering, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), leon kennedy one liners, canon-typical violence, a few sneaky references to other re games/movies, fake science i made up
a/n: picture your favorite leon for this. it was just sex pollen but became lots of plot with sex pollen and mush in the second half. what can i say, i'm a lover at heart. just like leon!
--
It starts with bad intel.
The facility is supposed to be abandoned. No bio signatures on the initial recon scan, no movement from hostiles after an extended stakeout, nothing. An abandoned underground lab for an experimental arm of Umbrella, potentially full of important documents on bioweapons research.
Your mission is to gather as much information as possible, should any of the viruses created there pop up on the black market or worse.
Easy, compared to the shit you're usually assigned.
Leon agrees.
Well, you think he agrees. He treats every mission as seriously as the last. You've grown to appreciate his consistency. It makes him easy to trust, which is essential in this line of work.
He's the best partner you've ever had. Thorough, direct, and smart. He never questions your abilities and relies on you just as much as you rely on him.
And, god. He's kind. Funny, too, when he wants to be. One time on a weeklong stakeout in the middle of nowhere, Argentina, he explained to you, in detail, the plot of The Count of Monte Cristo, all because you said you'd never read it. You hadn't even known he liked to read.
He's hard to crack, though. Professional to a fault, more dedicated to the cause than anyone you've ever met. And he's handsome.
How could you not fall in love with him?
You keep your ever-growing feelings to yourself. Asking him if he feels the same isn't worth ruining your partnership, isn't worth being someone else who wants something from him that he maybe can't give. Not when you can have him this way -- at your side with your life in his hands, his in yours.
In some ways, this is more intimate than any regular relationship you've ever had.
You'd spent the chopper ride here watching him as he looked out the window, even though you knew he felt your gaze. He's always doing that, always taking in everything around him with militant attention. You wonder what he sees that most people don't. Connections, patterns, maybe even beauty. You've never asked. Whatever it is has kept him alive this long. It's kept you alive, too.
And so, the mission.
You drop from a very long hatch into dark, stale air. The ladder leaves your hands aching and your shoulders tight, but there's no time for recovery.
Training takes over. Leon leads, with you at his right flank. Flashlights on, service weapon at the ready.
"Stay sharp," he says.
Sometimes you tease him about it, his constant readiness for a threat. But you feel it this time. Something's not right here, scans be damned.
Flecks of dust and grime float through your bright beams. The corridor ends maybe 15 meters in front of you in a set of metal doors, no windows. The security pad on the left side blinks a dull red.
"Emergency power," you say.
It was in the brief as a possibility but not a guarantee. Leon approaches, and you follow, digging into one of your belt pockets for the access card some other agent had to steal last week for this purpose.
"You want to do the honors?" you ask.
Leon shakes his head. "Be my guest."
The red light blinks green with a hover of your hand, and the unlocking mechanisms creak to life. The doors open slowly with a hiss. You're greeted with a dark lobby, dull yellowish lights lining the base of the walls.
"Must be on throughout," Leon says. Sometimes these places are zoned, or some other needlessly complicated system of power distribution. "Hopefully that means doors will keep opening."
He's still tense, arms outstretched to shine his light into the new space, shoulders taut. You feel it too, a prickle at the base of your neck.
"If not, I'm sure the power systems will be super easy to find with no issues," you say lightly.
He huffs, as close to a laugh as you can hope for at the start of a mission, but it's a win.
"Ready?" he asks.
You dip your chin. He glides into the room, clearing one side as you clear the other. There aren't any signs of disturbance, but that's how it goes with these places. The closer you get to the exit, the more normal it seems -- because all of the horrible things happen behind closed doors.
And no one makes it out.
"Clear," Leon calls. You echo it.
There are two single doors that reveal a bathroom hallway and the security office, as well as a set of double doors that resemble the locked entrance, another keypad glowing red at one side. Leon finds a map of the facility in the office and spreads it on the desk.
"That locked door will take us to an elevator that goes down to the labs," he says, tracing the path with a finger under the beam of his flashlight. "Three of them, all on different levels, connected by staircases instead of the elevator shaft, only accessible by keycard and on the other side of an anti-contamination corridor."
"Isolated," you observe. "In case of an outbreak?"
"It's bare bones compared to the other Umbrella stuff we've seen. This must be really out-there shit. Less resources, less of a footprint, less of an issue when it goes wrong."
You try to commit the map to memory. Leon will undoubtedly fold it into one of his pockets, but it's hard to consult a piece of paper when you're running from a B.O.W..
"Greek," Leon mutters. "More creative than T-virus, that's for sure."
This is just like him, surprising you after countless missions as your partner.
"Do you speak Greek, Leon?"
He shrugs.
"Not really." He tightens the strap on his glove, a cue that he's frustrated. You know most of his tells by now. "I don't know the last one. Fire, maybe?"
"Not really, he says," you tease. "What else are you hiding, Kennedy?"
He rolls his eyes at you, but if the lights were on, you're sure you'd see some pink in his cheeks. Battle-hardened agent he may be, Leon S. Kennedy still blushes for you.
If only...
No. You swallow the pang in your chest and roll your shoulders. "Start with B1 and go down, then loop back up?"
It wouldn't be out of the question to divide and conquer, but the slimy unease dripping down your spine prevents you from suggesting it.
He grunts his agreement, eyes still on the map, frowning.
As a pair, you work so well together because of your communication. It took practice, sure, but now you know each other across a crowded room, through the heat of a fight, in the dark. You don't let things go unsaid.
Well, most things, your traitorous heart says.
"Leon," you say. "It feels off, right? We're missing something."
Blue eyes meet yours. He sighs.
"Yeah," he says. "Guess we just have to find out what."
You can't help it -- you put your hand on his bicep and squeeze just a little, holding his gaze. His fringe hangs in his eyes. In another life, you'd push it back.
"Be careful, okay?" you ask him, faces so close you can feel his breath.
Leon got shot on your second ever mission together. It was a clean wound, through and through, except for the fact that he'd already been shot in that shoulder back in Raccoon City. The bullet fucked up the already fragile joint, so he needed surgery and was benched for six weeks (he was back at your side in four).
There was nothing you could have done. It was nobody's fault. But you felt responsible for waylaying your new partner, who was one of the most well-known agents in the whole damn place, so you went to see him in the hospital to alleviate your guilt.
"They have you with anyone while I'm out?" he asked you.
They did, actually, but hadn't told you who. Leon was troubled by it.
"Well, be careful," he said, as if he didn't trust anyone else to watch your back, even then.
"Only as careful as you," you replied, pointing at his shoulder.
That was the first time you made Leon Kennedy laugh.
Now, it's something you say to each other in the field. A mantra, a reminder, a promise.
Leon gives you a small smile.
"Only as careful as you," he replies, like he always does. We keep each other safe.
You release him and busy your hand at your belt immediately, god forbid you touch him more.
He rolls his shoulders back and checks the chamber of his sidearm.
"Into the depths, huh?"
"Into the depths."
--
Level B1: MENIS
The elevator opens to a dead contamination chamber. Nothing happens as you walk through the three zones where you'd expect to be scanned, doused, and dried. Another set of metal doors opens with a hiss when you tap the keycard. The smell of death hits your nose and makes your eyes water.
There are at least 10 bodies piled on the other side, most of them in pieces.
"Fuck," you curse, sidestepping a caved-in head.
"Looks like the party started without us," Leon says quietly.
"Great," you mutter. "God, that's nasty."
There aren't any claw marks or avid stains or other tell-tale signs of B.O.W.'s you see with this caliber of violence. One look at Leon and you know he's realized the same thing. You tilt your head down the hall. He nods, following your lead deeper into the floor.
Red emergency lights pulse along the base of the walls, illuminating the blood splattered pretty much everywhere. You pass the occasional corpse, most of them so horribly disfigured it's hard to tell if they were staff or test subjects or something else.
There are so many things you want to say, but you keep them to yourself until Leon leads you to the floor's main office. You slide in but don't relax.
"They look like they were torn apart," you say as soon as the door is closed. Leon frowns at you, since you didn't clear the room first, but it's a square office. You can see all the corners from where you're standing.
"I know," he replies. "But no sign of what did it."
You sigh. "So, are you going to tell Hunnigan the location survey was wrong, or should I?"
"I think I've run out of my 'bad news' calls for the year," he says. "That one's all yours once we get topside."
"How generous of you."
Leon smirks. "I'm a giver."
The office is small and the computers are dead. There are papers scattered around, so you divide and conquer.
You find an official logbook. Mostly in-the-weeds science stuff, but you skim until you find a change in handwriting.
LOG #57:
Development continues under new staff. Blood transmission remains the only method that carries enough sample to infect a host; airborne tests were unsuccessful. Vaccine/suppressant formulas abandoned for the time being after we were told that our subject supply would be steady. B2 wants to set one of theirs against one of ours, which seems pointless because any B1 subject will win that fight. B3 is a joke, but they're insistent that it'll work.
No vaccine...that's not good news. But what were they actually testing here? Infecting people with what?
You flip more pages until you find something that makes your blood run cold.
LOG #63:
We've finally gotten a host to survive. B2 and B3 are nowhere near this. We won't be sharing. Their subjects die within hours. B3 is practically useless, anyway. What use is controlling people if they die on you in an hour? But here, we've cracked it. I managed to figure out how to get the virus to work with the host's adrenaline production, stabilizing it into a constant state of fight or flight without short-circuiting the nervous system. If this batch survives the week, we'll ask permission to start on the suppressant. Once we have that, we'll be able to control the whole herd. The future of hostile takeover is here! Now, if only they'd let us out of this fucking dungeon more often…
Holy shit. They were making viruses to infect large populations, to control them. But using what? Changing their brain chemicals, making them reliant on suppressants? Leon told you about this kind of manipulation, how it infiltrated a military unit and even made its way to the White House a few years ago. Who knows how far they got this time?
"Leon," you call, turning with the folder in your hands. "You should look at this --"
You make eye contact and fall silent. He's got his finger over his lips and his gun at the ready.
You toss the papers aside and take your place on the other side of the door.
That's when you hear it.
Groans, grunts, screams. Footsteps -- a lot of them.
He holds your gaze.
Clear the chokepoint, get into the lab rooms down the hall around the corner, make for the stairwell on the other side of the floor.
That's what you'd do, so you know it's what he's thinking, too. No confirmation needed.
The door bursts open. You duck, missing the arms reaching for your neck. It's dark in here, but you rely on muscle memory and gravity to sweep the zombie's legs out from under it and stomp on its head while you fire at the next one.
The attackers are -- well, they look mostly human. But their eyes are wild, blood running down their faces like tears, pink foam and spit dripping from their mouths.
Leon's movements are sharp and decisive. Headshot, parry, twist. Uppercut, knee sweep, headshot. He occupies the air around you like he's magnetized to your movements, always filling the space where you aren't, ceding room when you need it. After hours upon hours of mat practice between the two of you and hundreds of field opportunities to master it, you work together like a well-oiled machine.
It's exhilarating.
You're forced back from the door, but you keep firing, slicing, covering each other. It's essential that you get into the hall sooner rather than later to avoid being trapped in this room.
A zombie rips the arm off another in its attempt to get to you. That's new.
"What the fuck were they doing with this shit?" Leon grunts. He's splattered with blood now. No doubt you are too.
"That's what I was going to tell you before our party of two got crashed," you say between shots.
"They wanted to control people."
"Yeah, this sure looks like control to me!"
"We have to clear it or we'll have to fight through on our way back up."
Leon grunts his agreement. "They're not biting." His aim is true, as always. He downs two, three, four infected. "They just want to rip us apart!"
"We need to go into the hall. Cover me," you say, dodging bloody fingers and sliding through the door. "Switching weapons!"
Your assault rifle is strapped to your back. You holster your pistol and reach around for it, but something catches your jacket and pulls.
The fabric tears. For a split second, you worry your flesh will be next, but then the tug disappears. Leon grunts and he breaks the neck of whatever had you.
You keep your gaze on the approaching pack, maybe 10 or 15 strong. Leon keeps taking them down while you holster your pistol and check the new cartridge.
"Gonna need to reload in a second here," he calls. "Six left. Five. Four --"
"Ready," you shout. Leon stabs a zombie in the neck and walks behind it, using it as a wall against reaching fingers until he's at your side again. He tears his knife free and slides beside you, solid, ready.
You open fire.
That's all it takes. The hallway is soon empty and bloodier than before. All you can hear is your combined panting.
Leon lowers his gun. "Nice job," he says.
You drop yours, too. "What was this floor called again? Menace?"
"Basically," he says, slamming in a new clip. "Divine wrath or anger."
"No shit." You look down at the tear in your jacket. "God damnit, this is my favorite."
Leon checks his chamber. "I'll get you a new one," he says.
You laugh. He almost smiles, like that was his goal all along.
The rest of the floor is mostly clear. A few stragglers here and there, but they're no match for the two of you. The containment chambers seem to be where the infected gathered in the months since this facility went dark -- the walls are covered in scratch marks.
"I can't believe they didn't kill each other," Leon says with mild disgust. "Not having control of yourself like that...I wouldn't wish it on anyone."
You've read the report from Spain. He knows how it feels.
"Do you think they're aware?" you wonder aloud.
He looks so sad for a moment that you almost reach for him. "I hope not."
--
Level B2: KAMATOS
The stairwell is a mess. The door to B2 is barricaded, but you manage to get through after slamming your shoulders against it over and over.
This floor is quiet, but in a different way than upstairs. Years of field-trained instincts tell you there's nothing left alive on this floor. That, and it made a hell of a lot of noise getting the door open, and nothing popped out.
It's dustier down here, like things have been still for longer.
"What's this one mean?" you ask. "This virus."
"Extreme fatigue," Leon tells you.
"So if they controlled adrenaline levels on the first floor to make them angry, they're depriving people of sleep on this floor?"
He shrugs. "Maybe they found a way to keep the brain awake without killing it."
They did not.
The documents you find suggest the virus was a failure. The bodies you find confirm it. Hosts died from heart failure, self-inflicted wounds, a number of things, no matter what the scientists did to keep the mind from giving up. All by depriving them of sleep.
Being so tired that you see no other way out…
The horror of it all rises in your throat. You leave Leon with the corpses so you can press your forehead to the cool hallway wall.
This job asks a lot of you. Your time, your well-being. Your security, your personal relationships, your hobbies. It's overwhelming and can bury a person. The things you see, the things you do -- it gets to you. It’s easy to shove it down, to pretend like you're untouchable, but that's no way to live, either.
Sometimes you just have to feel it.
These poor people.
Leon's hand is light on your shoulder. Not patronizing, not rushing, just there. Warm, solid.
You take a deep breath, then stand up straight.
"Let's take a quick break before the last floor," Leon says.
"I'm fine."
You turn to face him, but he's already crouching, back against the wall.
He grins, a real smile this time. It makes him look younger. "Who said it was for you?"
It's like he's giving you permission to put it all down for a second. To forget where you are, why you're there, what you're doing. Leon's guard is rarely fully down, and right now he's telling you that he's got you. Rest for a second, I'll take care of us.
He's proven to you over and over that he will.
So you smile back, shaky but genuine. "Getting old, Kennedy?"
"Something like that." He looks up at you, grin softening into something fond. "Do you remember Greece?"
You slide down the wall to his level. "Do I remember Greece? Be serious. How could I forget --"
"All those stairs," Leon finishes. "Exactly."
It was last year in the height of summer. A small, sleepy cliffside town, except for the fact that a scummy billionaire moved into the monastery and started developing B.O.W.'s in the catacombs.
The town was evacuated. You were sent in to apprehend the guy and secure whatever virus he was using. It turned into three days of running up and down stone staircases away from bats with tentacles and lizards with thousands of teeth where you wouldn't expect teeth to be.
Over the course of your partnership, you've seen each other in all states, but you've never seen Leon as exhausted as he was after that mission.
"I thought I was going to have to carry you to the rendezvous point," you remind him. "You fell down so many stairs."
Leon rubs his knees as if remembering the way they smacked stone over and over.
"And you would have," he says.
He catches your gaze and holds it. He's reminding you that you're in this together. That he trusts you, something you do not take lightly. It's hard to know who you can trust in this job, even your very own employer, but he never doubts you. You never doubt him.
The familiar ache of everything you feel for him sits warm and heavy on your chest. He's the best man you've ever known.
"I would have," you say.
Leon dips his chin, his mouth curling into a smaller smile than before, but this one is just as fond.
"We should go back," you say without meaning to.
It surprises him, but he hides it well.
"That would be nice," he muses. "I don't know the last time I took a vacation."
"We could go to the beach," you continue. It's scarily easy to imagine -- Leon in swim trunks, cheeks pink from the sun. "Stay at the bottom of the stairs and not walk up a single one."
"But you liked the monastery," he reminds you. "We'd have to go back up to see the windows."
Of course he remembers how you'd looked up in awe at the stained glass, gun in your hand and blood on your face.
"I'll climb up by myself. You can relax."
Leon sighs. "Relax," he says. "I don't even know if I know how to do that."
"You're good at everything," you say. "You'll pick it up in no time."
Whatever game this is, you're having too much fun playing it. Leon doesn't lie to you, so while he might be indulging you, there's a part of him that means all of this. He has to know that you mean it, too.
He stands and offers you his hand.
"One more floor," he says. "Then we can go to Greece."
--
Level B3: PYRETOS
The hit comes out of nowhere.
Maybe you're distracted by talk of vacation, or your guard is down after the silence of B2, but you don't see it coming. One second you're rounding the corner, the next you're flying backwards through glass, back slamming against a cabinet. You land heavily on the ground, more glass and something wet raining down on you.
Leon yells your name.
You try to catch your breath, but it's stuck in your chest. He's still calling for you in between gunshots.
"Fuck," you croak, finally finding air. You roll onto your side. Glass crunches under your weight as you try to figure out what the hell just happened.
Everything hurts, but you try to shake it off and push up to standing. Leon hauls himself through the broken window. He begins to clear the room after he sees you on your feet.
"Clear. That was one ugly son of a bitch," he says. "Must have gotten down here from upstairs."
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words catch in your throat.
Something isn't right.
Your skin feels tight, like you already went on vacation and got burned to a crisp. Your pulse won't slow. Deep breaths feel impossible. Strangest of all, it's almost like –
Well, your core is buzzing. You press your legs together and try not to panic.
In the early days, after Leon got shot but well before Greece, you hid an injury from him.
You took a knife to the ribs during a fight. It wasn't too deep, but it was wide and bleeding steadily. Adrenaline allowed you to get through it. You figured you could patch yourself up the next time you slowed. But Leon pushed on ahead, and you followed without saying anything.
That is, until you left a bloody handprint on a door. He stopped immediately.
"Is that yours?" he said. "Where are you hurt?"
"It's nothing," you protested. But Leon S. Kennedy does not give up easily.
"Show me," he said, pulling out bandages from his hip pouch. "When did this happen?"
"I'm not compromised," you said, even as you lifted your jacket to show him.
"I know you aren't," he said. "I want to know when you're hurt so I can make sure you're okay."
"I'm fine," you said weakly. He patched you up quickly and thoroughly.
"We're partners," he told you. "We have to help each other."
Here, now, you don’t hide from him.
"Leon," you croak. "Something's wrong. I think I --"
He's at your side in an instant, so close your breath hitches. Why are you so affected by him? Why are you so warm?
"The rip in your jacket," Leon says. "Your arm is bleeding."
"Liquid," you gasp. "It felt wet when I hit the cabinet."
The pieces come together. Shattered vials at your feet, an empty cabinet behind you. The dull red emergency lights make it hard to tell what color the puddle is, but you know it can't be good.
"They wouldn't keep a virus out in the open, would they?" you ask weakly. You're shaking now, shivering even though you don't feel cold.
"Fever," he breathes. "Pyretos. It means fever."
You've rarely seen Leon afraid. He's human, so it happens, but normally he faces things head-on without complaint.
Right now, he looks terrified. That scares you more than anything.
"Leon," you whisper. "What do we do?"
He snaps into action. He hands you a roll of bandages.
"Wrap it," he says. He presses a few buttons on his watch until it beeps. Setting a timer, no doubt. Just in case. "How do you feel? Describe it to me."
"Feverish," you say. "But not dizzy. I can think clearly."
Leon starts to dig around the lab, tearing open drawers and rifling through what he finds. The office on this floor wasn't in the same place as the other two, so any information must be in here, right?
"What else?"
You follow his lead, desperately searching for anything helpful. How do you explain the fact that your entire body is pulsing with a very specific kind of need? It scares you, feeling this out of control physically while also being in your right mind.
You land on achey. The buzzing under your skin gets worse every minute you spend looking and finding fuck all.
"There's nothing here," he says, frustrated. "Shit."
You're thinking the same thing: no vaccines. Any hope for you is in this lab.
But then -- your eye catches on a cabinet sitting on deep grooves in the floor.
"There's a door," you tell him, already heading for it. A wave of need hits you so suddenly that you have to brace yourself on the wall to catch your breath. Leon brushes by you. The slight contact has you swallowing a moan.
Jesus Christ.
He shoves the cabinet aside. Behind it is a door that opens into the lab office, as dark as the others.
You follow him in and start searching the shelves. Leon drags a table into the perfect place to effectively barricade you in.
"We don't have time to be interrupted right now," he says. He starts searching the desk.
You're sweating now. If this thing is going to turn you, Leon can't be here for it. You don't want him to see it. "Maybe you should go back to the surface --"
"I'm not leaving you," he interrupts. It's sharp, final.
"But if I turn--"
Leon whirls around. "I'm not leaving you," he says again.
Your nose stings. It's not the rational choice, but it's the Leon Kennedy choice. You can't help but be grateful for it.
He returns to the papers. Everywhere your clothing touches your skin feels heavy, almost painful. Your skin is sensitive, your throat dry, breath still fast.
You're so turned on, you think you might explode. It's all you can do to just stand there and try to keep it together.
"I found something," Leon says. He says nothing else. It's hard to see his expression in the dark without being close to him. You don't know if you can handle that right now.
"Bad news, doc?"
He swallows and begins to read.
"In an effort to bend the subject to commands, a fever is introduced via the bloodstream that increases testosterone and dopamine to near-unbearable levels of arousal. We have successfully altered the balance to allow the mind to be unaffected, making the reaction purely physical. The fever, if detected and combated within 1 hour, can be reduced by repeated bursts of oxytocin until the subject's internal temperature returns to normal. Required oxytocin levels seem to vary by subject; no pattern discernible at this time."
"What the fuck does that mean?" you pant. Your skin feels too tight. You still can't take a full breath. Control is becoming a missed opportunity. "Do I have a sex fever?"
No answer.
"Leon."
He exhales sharply.
"I think you need to be touched," he says. "To release the chemical that will help you fight this on your own."
Your responding laugh edges on hysterical.
"I do have a sex fever. So, what, you're going to hug me and hope I don't die?"
"I could," he says. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "I just don't think it'll be enough. This says bursts, and a lot of them. The best way to trigger that kind of response is --"
It clicks in your mind.
"Orgasm," you whisper. "Oh, god."
Leon closes his eyes for a second too long.
"I don't know what to do," he admits. He looks at his watch. "It's been 10 minutes. I don't know what--"
"I'm so sorry," you breathe. The gravity of your situation is like a bucket of cold water. If only it actually made you feel cold. You have to fuck your partner or die. What kind of sick joke is this? "Leon, I'm so sorry. You don't have to do anything, this is my fault --"
He tosses the file onto the table.
"I'm not going to let you die," he says with all his usual conviction. He really believes it, and it makes it easier for you to believe it, too. "Not when there's something I can do about it."
"But not like this," you croak. "This is --"
"I know."
God, you wish the lights were on. You want to see every detail of his face to discern what he's feeling. Can you ask him to do this? Will it ruin everything forever?
A tremor wracks through you. You have to brace yourself on the desk.
He yanks open drawers until he finds a thermometer. It beeps alive, somehow, and he holds it up to your forehead.
"Shit," he mutters.
"What?"
Leon flips the device to show you the screen. 103.2.
"Shit," you echo.
Your brain is going to cook in your skull sooner rather than later. You swallow frustrated tears along with your pride.
"I'm so wet," you whisper. It's the lewdest thing you've ever said to him. "I can feel it."
Leon inhales sharply, standing ever-so-still just next to you, just out of reach.
The pain radiates through you, molten lava in your veins. It's strange to be able to think so clearly. You want Leon as badly as you always do. That's bearable. But the pain. The heat. It's something else, something all-consuming.
You need him to touch you.
"Please don't make me beg," you whimper, turning towards him.
"Jesus," he mutters, filling the space you make for him. His hands find your face. You groan. The contact is like a balm, even through his gloves.
"Oh god."
You nuzzle into his palms. It's like you can feel the battle in your blood, the virus doing its best to cook you from the inside out, but Leon's touch is giving you a foothold, a reprieve.
If it wasn't so awful, you'd laugh at the idea that you're so horny you might die.
"Whatever you need, I'll do," he says. His voice is already hoarse. "But just -- you have to tell me if it's not okay. And I'll stop. We'll figure something else out."
You lean back on the desk and grab his elbows. You've touched plenty, but never like this. Never loaded with all of the unspoken things between you, never with such desperation.
"It's okay," you tell him. "Whatever it takes, it's okay. I trust you."
His thigh slides between your legs.
"Can you forgive me? If I do this?" he whispers, lips so close to yours. You lean forward on instinct, pulled to him by more than just the fire in your core.
"There's nothing to forgive," you say, and then you're kissing.
What you need is an orgasm, but this is something you've wondered about for a long time. Something you've wanted. It almost feels selfish to take it now.
But, fuck, it's good.
He's not shy. You trace the seam of his lips with your tongue. He opens for you immediately, licking into your mouth as he pulls you forward and onto his thigh.
His kisses are desperate, exposing his worry, but also tender, exposing his care. You're in good hands, hands you love.
Even through your pants, the pressure of your cunt on his thigh is enough to steal your breath.
"God," you gasp.
"Not quite," Leon says, kissing a path from your mouth down your neck. "Does that help?"
You grind down on him in reply. His palms have made their way to your hips, aiding you in your quest for pressure on your core.
It's too much. It's not enough. But still, the coil tightens. "Sorry, I just need --"
You chase it, grinding down on his thigh even harder, panting into his neck. You're close, you can feel it. You're chasing it, that snap, that reward. Leon just lets you take and take and take.
You thread your fingers through his hair, panting into his neck. When you tug just a little, he bounces his leg and you keen.
"More, please."
It only takes three more bounces before you're coming, shudders ripping through you, his name on your lips.
When you return to your body, Leon is dragging his palm up and down your back.
"Did you just--"
You're becoming very familiar with the fabric of his shoulder, his leather harness pressing into your cheek.
"Mhm," you manage.
There's a world where you're embarrassed. In that world, you asked Leon out for dinner and then up to your place after. In that world, you made out on the couch and ground down on his thigh until you came. In that world, he laughed with you, utterly charmed, and it was the beginning of something wonderful.
In this one, he gently tilts you back so he can check your temperature with the thermometer.
"Holy shit," he breathes. "102.1. It worked."
You don't feel that different, but the number doesn't lie.
Leon is panting, too. "More?"
You nod. Your cunt aches like you didn't have an orgasm at all.
He tugs off a glove with his teeth, dropping it god knows where.
"Don't know how clean my hands are," he says.
A laugh bursts out of you, but it sounds close to a sob.
Two fingers go in his mouth faster than you can open yours. He doesn't waste too much time wetting them, given how turned on you already are, but he gives them a good suck. A trail of spit hangs from his lip when he finishes.
You work at the buttons of your pants, unbuckling your tactical belt. It clangs onto the desk behind you. Leon slides his hand down under the waistband of your panties. You collapse into him with a guttural moan.
"Leon," you gasp. He holds you up, no problem, even as you go utterly boneless at just his fingers in your folds.
"You weren't kidding," he says, breathy. "You are wet."
"I'm sorry," you pant into his shoulder.
"Please don't say sorry again," he groans. "I can't take it."
"Can I say thank you?"
"That's worse," he says, sliding two fingers into you at the same time. "I just wish it wasn't like this, is all."
The absurdity of the whole thing makes it hard to keep your emotional walls high. What's the point? You're having sex with your partner to save your life in an underground Umbrella laboratory. You're way past keeping your emotions from him.
So you hear his words for what they are. For what he's not saying.
"Oh, yeah?" He curls his fingers and you groan, arching into him. "You have something you want to tell me, Kennedy?"
"Little late for that."
He presses his lips to your jaw, but you pull back so you can see his eyes. He's flushed, his pupils taking over almost all of the blue you love so dearly.
"I always want to know how you feel," you tell him. It's honest, raw, perhaps out of place when he's knuckle deep in your cunt.
"Fuck," he breathes, like eye contact is enough to undo him.
"I just want to help you," he says. "I always want to help you when you need it." He picks up the pace with his fingers. "I like being the guy who has your back."
His thumb circles your clit. It’s all you can do to hang onto his shoulders and ride it out as he keeps talking.
"I want to give you everything you've ever wanted," he says. "I miss you when you leave the room. I trust you more than anyone I've ever met."
"Oh, Leon," you gasp, grinding down onto his hand. "Me too. Me too."
He scrapes his teeth along your neck. "Yeah?"
"Yes, yes, yes --"
The orgasm washes over you. You clench around him over and over. He carefully pulls his hand from your panties and licks his fingers. Good god.
Something has shifted between you. It's still about the mission, about breaking your fever, but now it's more. It's more, because you both want it.
Leon leans in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, tasting yourself on his lips.
Beep.
"101.3," he says.
You push his hair back from his forehead. "Is that low enough?"
This time, you do feel a bit different. Maybe it's the confirmation that Leon has feelings for you, but your muscles feel more relaxed, your skin less taut. The need still burns, though.
"There's no way to say this without sounding like a creep," he says wryly. "But I think you should have a few more."
You drag your hands up and down his torso, but your gaze lands on his makeshift barricade.
"Do we think we have time?"
Even as you ask, you're toeing off your boots and shoving your pants down. Leon is quick to help you.
"If anything comes through that door," he says, fingers hooked in your underwear, "I can kill it with my eyes closed."
He hooks his hand under your thighs and helps you up onto the desk fully, sweeping everything onto the ground.
"So could you," he adds. You hum in agreement. Your hand returns to his torso, trailing it down to the front of his pants.
He's hard.
It's not entirely a surprise, but you're pleased.
"I know, I'm sorry, it's kind of fucked up --" he tries. You don't let it get very far.
"Don't you apologize," you say. "You're allowed to want, Leon. I promise you, whatever you want, you can have. You already do."
His answer to that is a kiss, not searing and heated like before, but soft and slow. Like he's memorizing you, learning every inch of your mouth just because he can.
A wave of heat rolls through you, so intense and unexpected that you have to close your eyes and grit your teeth against the pain.
Leon rubs your back and tells you to breathe, it's okay, you're going to be okay.
The heat dulls. "How long has it been?" you ask through gritted teeth, eyes still shut.
"26 minutes."
His thumbs stroke your cheeks, helping you come back to yourself.
"Are you okay to keep going?" he asks. "I'll do whatever you want."
You reach for his belt with shaking hands. Not because you don't want him, or because you're scared, but because you need him. You need him to survive. This was just as true before you got infected as it is now. And you have him.
He has you.
Leon lets you unbuckle his pants as he undoes his harness and his tactical pouches. They both fall to the ground.
You take him in hand and he hisses. His cock is warm, another layer of heat against your already burning skin. His hips jerk when you stroke him root to tip.
His fingers circle your wrist to stop you.
"Another time," he says. He kisses your chin. "Okay?"
There will be another time. Leon doesn't say things he doesn't mean, so you take it to heart. This will happen again.
It's not exactly romantic, the way you lean back on some long-dead bioterrorist's desk naked from the waist down, Leon's pants shoved down his thighs and his cock in his hand. But it's what you've got, and it's what you'll take.
You spread your legs for him. He sucks in air like a man just saved from drowning.
"Ready?" he asks. You feel his tip at your entrance and can't swallow the moan that rips from your throat in the shape of his name. He wastes no more time sinking into you in one stroke.
You come immediately, legs wrapped around his hips. You might scream, it's hard to tell. But you're so full and it finally feels right. Like you've been missing something all along and finally found it.
Leon says your name over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer.
"I wish I could see you properly," he says, voice breaking. "I wish –
His hips jerk forward even though he's bottomed out. He leans forward until he's bracing his forearms on either side of your head, brushing your nose with his. He's right. It's hard to see him fully in the red-washed office.
"You know what I look like," you tell him.
"Not like this," he shakes his head. "Not like this."
"You're doing so good," you say, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Leon, it feels so good --"
It's a strange sensation to feel your blood cooling while he's inside you, to regain control of your body just as you surrender your heart.
Leon starts to move his hips, a slow drag at first, but it quickly becomes a snap. You dig your fingers into his biceps and hold on. You can hear how wet you are as he fucks you.
The coil in your core tightens again. "Leon," you moan. "I'm gonna--"
He kisses you, hips slowing to a grind. He reaches between you with one hand to find your clit and give it some messy circles.
"Go ahead," he says against your mouth. "I can take it."
Your cunt clenches around him. Tears prick in your eyes not from overstimulation but from everything else -- the heat in your veins, the tenderness of his hold, the way he's kissing you as you fall apart, swallowing your gasps.
"So beautiful," he says. And god, it sounds like he means it. Half-dressed, sweaty and bandaged, he means it.
Leon goes back to shallow thrusts, but they're becoming more erratic.
"How many is that?"
"Four," Leon says.
"Are you..."
He nods. "I'm close."
His forehead is damp from the effort. You wipe it with the heel of your hand.
"It's okay," you tell him. "It's okay, Leon. You can --"
You tighten your legs around him to hold him inside.
His breath hitches, but he picks up the pace without argument.
The smack of your flesh fills the room. The only thing on your mind is Leon Leon Leon.
The noise he makes just before he comes inside you is a punched-out whine of your name. He stills above you entirely, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.
"So beautiful," you echo. "So beautiful, Leon."
He keeps his weight off you but presses his face into your neck as he catches his breath.
"Fuck," he says. "How do you feel?"
You need to check your temperature, but remarkably better. The heat in your veins is an expected one. You can feel sweat cooling on your skin. The incessant need in your cunt has dulled to a satiated ache.
"Still alive." You kiss him chastely, considering he's still inside you.
"Let me check -- where the hell did that thing go?"
He pulls out. You both hiss just a bit, but he finds the thermometer on the ground.
Beep.
"98.3," Leon says. "That's normal."
You feel boneless and make no move to get up from the desk. If you did, you'd surely make a mess.
"Finally, something normal about today."
Leon tucks his cock back into his briefs, buttons his pants. He drags his hands up and down your thighs.
"Can I clean you up?" he asks.
Even though you now know how he feels, know that he wants you just as much as you want him, he's done so much for you today. Your temperature is back to normal. You still need to make it back to the surface.
"You don't need to," you say. "Just...give me a clean bandage, or something --"
"Let me do this for you," he interrupts. Begs, really, already getting on his knees between your legs. "One more. Just to be safe."
The heat that builds is nothing like the wild, uncontrollable fire of before. This is all you, all Leon.
The fact that he wants his mouth on you, wants to lick his own come from your cunt.
"Okay," you breathe. You thread your fingers through his hair. He preens.
He kisses the inside of your thigh and pushes your legs wider.
Maybe you should feel exposed, but you don't. You feel wanted. You feel safe.
Leon pulls your folds open with his thumbs. He starts with long licks with the flat of his tongue along your seam, flicking your clit when he reaches the top. But your entrance quickly becomes his focus, and suddenly he's a man possessed.
He laps up his own release as it drips from you, humming when you tug on his hair. He hardly comes up for air, but you know he's paying attention to your reactions based on the way he moves his mouth. He sucks on your clit. Your hips buck, so he does it again.
"Leon," you gasp. How is it possible that you're going to come again? But you feel it, the rising tide in your core. All it takes is a glance down to find him watching you, soaking in whatever he can see in the dim light.
He keeps his mouth on you through your final orgasm. This time, a few tears leak from your eyes. Your breath evens out and your heartbeat actually slows the way you expect it to. The fever is broken, you're certain of it.
"Just to be safe," you say to the ceiling. "You just wanted to show me how good you were at that."
Leon wipes his face with the back of his hand.
"I like to be thorough," he replies. He stands, drags your underwear and pants up with him.
"Are you okay? How are the symptoms?"
"I think so." You scoot forward on the table so he can pull your clothes over your hips. "It doesn't feel like a fever anymore."
"What does it feel like?"
Your legs are a little shaky, but you stand and wrap your arms around him. You've just had sex to save your life, but you don't know if you've ever hugged Leon before.
"It feels like you," you tell him, cheek pressed to his shoulder.
Leon stills, but you can hear his heartbeat pick up. He envelops you in his embrace, lips pressed against your temple, his inhale shaky.
"I'm glad," he whispers. "I'm so fucking glad."
He's hidden his fear from you so well this whole time, but you saw the look on his face when he realized you were infected. You hug him tighter, willing the fear to leave him. You're okay. You're here, in his arms. He saved you.
"What now?" you ask. You turn in his arms. He releases you so you can reach for your tactical belt.
"We get out of here in one piece," he says. "We get you to medical."
"Fucking medical," you mutter. You shove your foot back in your discarded boot.
"I won't leave you there," Leon says. They could keep you for days, but you know he means it. "Then I'll take you home. And we'll sleep for days."
You almost forget that you don't have to keep your feelings from him. You let the joy take over your face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he says, a little sheepish. "If you want to."
"I want to," you assure him. "I want to."
You'll have to talk about this, surely. The way it changes your partnership, how to navigate field work. There is so much to learn about him. What he's like on a quiet morning at home instead of a stakeout. The noises you can pull from him in a real bedroom. His face when you tell him you love him.
The future is bright.
Leon buckles his harness. He laughs to himself, tearing you from your thoughts.
"What?"
He straightens your belt and grins crookedly, boyish and lovely.
"Are you writing this into the mission report, or am I?"
Leon Kennedy loves shy girls. If you are dating he likes his girl to be a little shy.
Too nervous to directly ask for physical affection, to hang out, or even a kiss.
Like he thinks it's adorable watching your cheeks flush red after he kisses you or hugs you.
Hiding behind him in public, grabbing onto his arm and burying your face in his back. He adores it. You get so nervous around him when he's like this and can't help but hide your face.
Imagine when you go in public and he can't help but tease you. "Baby, come here." He says slowly. He wants to kiss you so badly.
Youre embarrassed by the fact that he still wants to kiss you even though youre trying your absolute best to not let that happen. You dont have much experience with romance and stuff like that but your boyfriend is slowly leading you to it and trying you help you become less shy about romance.
Like just imagine him pushing you out of your comfort zone and making you try new things. ;p
More head cannons because we just hit 40 followers!!
NSFW
Leon doesn’t like any kind of violence in the bedroom. Like he’s not into knife/gunplay because those are weapons associated with his job. And his job is dangerous, he doesn’t want to remember that stuff.
His favorite position is missionary or cowgirl. He likes to see your face, but I think as he gets older then doggy might come into play.
He’s really into orgasam control. Like edging you or overstimulating you until you can’t take it. Holding a vibrator to your clit and fingering you until you cum over and over. Or taking away all that pleasure right before you cum.
I don’t think he’s into degradation, he wants to be praised and he definitely praises you.
HE TALKS YOU THROUGH IT. “Good girl” “Cmon you can give me one more” “Atta girl…squeezing me so tight” “Making me feel so good”
If you’re doing missionary, your legs are over his shoulders or wrapped around his waist. If it’s cowgirl, his hands are on your waist guiding your movements. Occasional he grabs your tit, or smacks your ass because why not.
Kisses. He gives you lots of kisses.
I think naturally he’s a top or dom but doesn’t mind if you want to top. Now re2 leon is definitely a bottom though, I can kind of see DI leon being more bottomish too.
I think he’s gentle during sex, like no matter how many times you’ve done it he’s still pushing his dick in slowly. Frequently asking you if you’re okay.
He always makes you finish before he does. He’s putting your pleasure over his own.
AFTERCAREEE. He’s so good at it! He’s cuddling you, bringing you snacks and drinks, cleaning you up. He’ll carry you to the shower you want.
thinking about leon kissing you like a starving man only after holding himself back for hours because he wanted to be polite and patient and respectful but now the bedroom door is shut and suddenly respect is a negotiable concept
explicit content
Leon taught you how to kiss. He never imagined that he’d be with someone who didn’t know how. Simply hadn’t fathomed it. Why would he? But you, lovely and kind, smart and silly, had never been kissed, and so Leon taught you. Got you sitting over his thigh with a little bit of pleading and a solid arm coiled behind you like a belt.
He thinks about it sometimes when he needs to, how he’d pressed his thumb into the hinge of your jaw to get you to open up and kiss with tongue, the hesitancy of your hands on him, the soft brush of your mouth and your breathing. He remembers those first few kitten licks, and the way he’d nipped your nose to get you to laugh and calm down. Finds himself aching and hard at even the slightest reminder—you’ll wear your perfume from those shy first months together and he’ll strip himself raw remembering how he’d guided you forward, murmured about tongue and teeth and which way to turn your face, how to follow, when to give in.
It plagues him more often than it should. Occasionally, you’ll kiss him sweet and gentle, your lips more parted than they could be, and he’ll wonder if he’s a bad teacher as his stomach turns leaden with heat. Wet kiss or chaste, casual or under his weight, he can’t be that bad. Isn’t as good-hearted as he’d like to think, maybe, when he gets hard from a peck or entices you to sit in his lap and practice. It’s spit, he’d murmured, not poison. Jus’ kiss me, honey, I don’t care if you’re bad at it. Practice makes perfect, didn’t anybody ever tell you that?
On a weekend morning, he’s already back from his run. It was just a light jog, but still, a thin sheen of sweat covers him. Strands of his fringe cling to his pale forehead, and sweat drips along his jawline. Disheveled, but with a certain raw beauty.
The exhilaration of the run hasn’t faded, but something softer is already rising in his chest—the desire to see you. To see his girlfriend, still buried under the covers, hibernating like a little bear.
He wants to go straight into your bedroom, climb onto the bed, and wrap his arms around you from behind. He wants to press his face into the crook of your neck, breathe in the warm, just-woken-up scent of you, kiss your shoulder, trail kisses up to your neck, “accidentally” wake you, and watch you blink your hazy eyes open at him.
But he can’t come near you smelling like sweat. He knows you like things clean.
So he steps into the shower and uses the body wash you picked out so carefully—the one you share. Thanks to that, you both end up smelling the same every day.
After his shower, he puts on his pajamas and walks quietly to the bed. He kneels on the edge with one knee and leans down close to you.
So close he can hear the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing. So close he can see the shadow of your lashes in the morning light. So close he can catch the faint, sweet scent that’s uniquely yours.
He lowers his head and presses his lips gently to your forehead.
So light. Like a feather brushing by.
You don’t react at all. Still fast asleep.
Leon’s lips twitch, barely perceptibly. He moves lower, this time kissing the tip of your nose.
Your nose wrinkles slightly, like a small animal bothered by a tiny bug.
He finds it amusing. He goes lower still, aiming for your lips this time.
But just as his lips are about to meet yours, you suddenly stir. You turn your head slightly, avoiding his kiss, and let out a sleepy, grumbling protest: “Mmm… stop it…”
Your voice is soft and thick with sleep.
He pauses. He watches you burrow your face deeper into the pillow, curling into yourself until only the back of your head is visible. Your fingers instinctively clutch the edge of the duvet, as if fending off some disturbance in a dream.
He waits a few seconds, then leans in again—this time gently brushing the hair from your cheek so your face is fully visible. Your brows are faintly knitted, as if you’ve run into trouble in your dream.
He lowers his head and kisses your cheek.
Your skin is warm from sleep, soft. He can’t help but linger for a moment.
“Mmm…” You make a sound again, this time with a hint of resistance. Your eyes stay closed, but your pupils are moving rapidly beneath your lids, as if you’re dreaming. Your hand emerges from under the covers and waves vaguely, like you’re trying to shoo away something annoying.
He watches your hand—slender fingers, neatly trimmed nails—and gently takes it in his.
Your hand looks tiny in his palm, warm and soft. He lowers his head and kisses your fingertips.
This finally seems to disturb your sleep.
Your lashes flutter a few times, then slowly lift. Your eyes are hazy in the morning light, pupils not yet fully focused. You stare blankly at him, so close, as if still trying to figure out if this is a dream or reality.
“…Leon?” you whisper, your voice hoarse and drowsy.
“Yeah,” he replies, still holding your hand.
You blink. You finally wake up a little more. You sniff, then your brow relaxes, and the corners of your mouth lift unconsciously: “…You smell good.”
It’s the scent of his body wash.
He doesn’t answer. He just lowers his head, and this time, finally, he kisses your lips—just a soft brush, like tasting morning dew. A kiss still thick with sleep. He feels how soft your lips are, a little dry. You tilt your face up to meet him, slow, light, as if kissing in a dream.
After a while, you start to stir gently, a kind of unconscious, cat-like squirm. You try to end the kiss, push him away, but you can’t quite bring yourself to. So it turns into a playful mix of give and take. Only when he’s satisfied does he reluctantly pull back. When the kiss ends, your eyes have drifted shut again, as if you’re ready to go back to sleep.
“What time is it…” you mumble, rubbing your face against his palm.
“Still early,” he says softly.
“Mmm…” you hum vaguely, shrinking further under the covers. But your hand still holds his, not letting go.
“Go back to sleep.” He kisses your forehead again. “I won’t bother you anymore.”
You open your eyes and look at him. There’s sleep in them, and something soft, something trusting. Then you let go of his hand, turn over so your back faces him, and curl up again.
He lies down behind you, gently wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you into his chest.
You let out a contented sigh, as if you’ve finally found the most comfortable spot. Your back presses against his chest, your hips against his stomach.
He buries his face in the nape of your neck and breathes in deeply—rose, the warmth of the sheets, the laziness of sleep, and the scent of your skin.
—♡ leon has successfully been able to restrain his desires for you until you bent over in front of him, revealing a part of you that he deeply craved.
—♡ warnings: pervy best friend leon, reader is kinda bimbo coded, feminine reader, dom!leon, manhandling, teasing, oral sex (reader recieving), mentions of rough sex.
“why don’t you like my teddy bears?” you asked, arms crossed with a pout as you stare at your best friend. he stares back at you, his muscled body resting against your white bed frame.
“i don’t hate them i just don’t see why you care about them so much. they’re not rea-”
“leon!” you cut him off, a look of genuine terror on your face. which makes him chuckle.
you were too cute for words. your sweet personality making his heart gush. as it always does.
you captured his heart so effortlessly. you were pure, so delicate. in every possible way. he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander to the dark side. he felt so disgusting and tried so hard to keep them in check. but oh god, it was so fucking hard. especially when you were prancing around your bedroom in tiny sleep shorts, smooth thigh highs that hugged your soft legs in the most intoxicating way, white tank tops which were borderline see-through. showing the outline of your perky breasts and nipples. and here you were now, you kneeled next to him on the bed. dressed in exactly that. he felt like a fucking animal, wanting to destroy every ounce of purity that radiated from you.
he wasn’t stupid, he knew you liked him more than just a friend. always finding himself enamored by the way your cheeks tinted pink every time he touched you, or called you pretty, or rested his large hand on your soft squishy thighs. just above where your cute little thigh highs sit. he couldn’t possibly help but think how pretty your pussy would be.
fuck leon, quit it. take your time with her. he’d think to himself.
he can’t quite recall when his forbidden feelings had exceeded a platonic level, all he knew is that he wanted you. needed you. the days would go by where he didn’t make a move and felt himself growing more and more sadistic towards you.
“well, you don't need to cuddle this little thing tonight. you have me, yeah?” he says, carelessly throwing your cute little plushie on the floor. an overly dramatic gasp escaping your mouth.
“leon, that's not funny. you're so mean. you have to be gentle with them,” you say softly as you move down the mattress to retrieve the beloved little bunny, bending your body off the edge of the bed. as the front half of your body disappeared, leon looked. wanting to get a glimpse of as much as he could without you noticing his devious gaze. but what he wasn’t expecting to see was your bare cunt on full display before his eyes. his breath hitched as his thoughts ran wild.
do you always forget to wear underwear when he's around? why hasn't he noticed this before? is this an invitation?
he couldn’t help but stare. you looked so so soft. eyes locked onto your entrance. swearing he could see it glisten. he gulps, saliva filling his hungry mouth at the thought of fucking you open with his tongue.
“fuck…” he mutters a little too loudly, causing you to turn around. still bent over to retrieve your plushie.
“what’s wrong, lee?” you ask, your pretty doe eyes looking into his with wonder. “are you feeling ok?”
god, you really had no fucking idea what you were doing.
“you… you’re a little fuckin’ tease aren’t you?” he hisses, grabbing your hips as if you were a rag doll and forcing you to lay down on your bed. hair splaying across your silky pillows. he was hovering over you now, you felt like you were drowning under his large frame.
“w-what are you talkin about, leon? i-” you attempt.
“‘i-… i-… what are you talking about, leon?’” he mocks, a sadistic smirk on his face. “you’re not fooling me, doll,” he moves his large hand down to your cunt, resting it over your thin sleep shorts. gasping as the warmth of his skin laid against your most precious area. “did you forget to wear your panties today like a silly little dits?”
“n-no, just wanted to be comfy. didn’t do it on purpose,” you look into his eyes as you plead, precious little pout on your lips.
oh god, he was going to fucking ruin you.
“is that right?” he asks, biting his lip. you nod your head. he doesn’t say anything as he moves down your body, forcing your thighs open as he settles between them. his toned stomach resting against your frilly duvet. he then pulls your bottoms to the side, revealing your glistening pussy to him properly. “then why is your needy little cunt dripping for me?”
“i.. leon i just-” you spoke, being cut off by your own gasp as he pulls down your shorts and throws them carelessly to the side. you blush, nobody had ever seen you like this before. your legs instinctively begin to close, but he effortlessly pulls them open again.
“wanted to see this precious little pussy of yours for years, don’t even think about hiding it from me now,” you whimper at his words. recalling the countless nights you spent alone, whining his name into your pillows to the thought of his rough fingers touching you there. and now, it was finally happening.
your head was spinning.
you weren’t naive, you knew about sex. what your sexual preferences were and what you desired, but you’d never actually done anything before. he knew that, he’s your best friend.
of course he knew.
he leans in, pressing his nose to your clit and inhaling your essence deeply. taking in your scent. it was feral, but your pussy clenched around nothing at his action. he hums, saliva filling his mouth as he prepares to taste you for the first time.
he could no longer resist and licked a rough stripe from your hole to your needy clit, the unfamiliar feeling causing a small gasp to escape your lungs. but oh god, did it feel good.
“leon…” you whine as he kisses your clit softly, and then again, and then again. legs trembling pathetically with each kiss. the sound of you whimpering his name sent him into a feral state, his tongue messily tracing along each crevice of your cunt. his pretty nose poking your clit in the most heavenly way.
“oh… oh, leon,” you whimper out, your trembling back arching off the bed. he finally locks his slick soaked lips around your needy bud, aggressively sucking on the delicate bundle of nerves. he rests one of his large hands on your tummy, semi exposed as your little top rode up when he threw you down on the bed.
“taste so pretty and sweet, knew you would,” he speaks against you, thighs trembling softly around his face and head. he contemplated using his fingers, but concluded quickly that it was unexplored territory for you. he didn’t want to overwhelm you too much, so he decided that simply eating your pussy would suffice. for now.
his attention stayed on your puffy clit, sucking and nipping the bundle. anything to hear those desperate whines and pleas of yours. he could tell you were already about to cum based on the way your body shook in his grasp, the way your hips attempted to buck towards his mouth. not to mention all of the pathetic whimpers that fell from your sweet lips.
all it took was for his eyes to meet yours for the band inside of your stomach to snap. your head flew back as the intense pleasure flooded your jolting frame. limbs wildly trembling and sweet cries that only drove him to buck his hips against the mattress himself. leon collected every drop of cum that fell from your slit, groaning at the sweet salty taste that he knew he’d now be addicted to for the rest of his life.
he continued to lick your cunt until he decided it was enough, kissing up your tummy and torso until his face was hovering over yours. you looked so pretty and fucked out, all he could think about was how you’d look after he finally gets to split you open with his cock. like he’s been waiting for, for so damn long.
he couldn’t wait for that day, but he knew that’d be too much. he knew what was best for you.
he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. you whined when he abruptly moved back. not satisfied with the shortness of the kiss. you watched him as he moved off the bed, bending down to pick up your long lost stuffed animal before returning to his previous position.
“here you go, baby doll. think you’re gonna need his after that,” he says, handing you the plushie that he had carelessly tossed onto the floor earlier. that’s when you noticed the way his chin was glistening with your essence. the warm lamps light reflecting on it causing it to sparkle. you blush and clutch your plushie to your chest. you look up at his lips as you bit yours, hoping he’d take the hint and kiss you once again. and he did.
sugar-daddy!satoru loves to spoil you. he'll do anything and everything for you, all you have to do is say the word. or, don't. he'll probably pull something crazy, anyways.
like, this. the second you mentioned wanting to hit up the mall, maybe make it a date with him, he was buying out the whole goddamn place. your eyes had gone wide, insisting that there was no need for that.
you could go on a normal date. as a normal couple. but, this was satoru, so normal was out the window. he'd pouted, but settled for renting it out instead, all of the day.
now? now, as your return gift to him, you were modeling beautiful lingerie for him, doing little spins for him, to showcase your curves. your initial plan of one or two purchases vanished as he added every item to the growing bill.
it's not his fault, he can't help that you look so fucking sexy in everything. satoru'll show you how much he likes you in them, too, eating you out in them all. he picks his favorites based on how pretty you look when you cum in them.
this baby blue on you had on now, though—god, he was a goner. your hardened nipples poked through the sheer fabric, and he peered up at you, from where he was on his knees. satoru's nose bumps against your clit, and if his strong arms weren't practically holding you up, you'd be a puddle on the floor.
"satoru," you whine, drawing out the syllables of his name. "please, please..."
his saliva and the slick of your arousal coats your folds, and you shiver as his warm breath brushes over them. "uh-huh, pretty girl."
his tongue darts out, tracing the swollen line of your clit, then dips lower, lapping at the slick entrance to your core. two fingers, slippery with your wetness, slide inside you, stretching you open. he curls them, hooking and pulling, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body.
you throw your head back, hands tangling in his soft hair, tugging at the roots. "can feel how tight you are, baby," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.
satoru's fingers thrust deeper, rhythmically pumping inside you, while his tongue continues its relentless assault on your clit. the combination is overwhelming, a messy, wet, glorious friction that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you.
"oh, fuck!" you cry, muffling yourself by biting down onto your fist.
"ah, ah," he reprimands, "none of that, now. 's not like there's anyone else here, make all the noise you want. show me how bad you want it."
and, because his mouth his too busy talking to be eating you out, you're quick to listen.
you can feel it, the pressure building in your core. "shit, 'toru," you cry, tears brimming on your lash-line.
"mmm, jus' like that. i—i can feel you clenching like that," satoru groans, knowing you're close. and, well, he's right, because moments later, he's lapping at your release, swallowing every drop, his own moans mingling with your ragged breaths.
"look how nice you took that. good girl," he coos, pressing wet kisses to your trembling thighs.
and, as he pulls off this pair, tossing it by the others—you notice that the entire pile is the same color, the shade of his eyes. you don't even bother to roll your eyes.
୨୧ ― The second stroke came after a deliciously cruel pause- ten whole seconds where all you could do was feel Gojo throbbing inside you, so deep it made your brain go fuzzy. Then he moved, and your spine arched clean off the plush blanket beneath you.
“Nngh~ Satoru-!”
“Theeeere she is,” he practically purred, his voice dropping to that low, honeyed growl that always made your heart stutter and your thighs press tighter around his hips.
His movements were almost lazy, almost teasing- rolling into you like he had all the time in the world to absolutely ruin you beneath the glittering ornaments. The fat head of his cock continuously kissed that squishy, aching spot deep in your cunt -nghh~- making your thighs trembled and belly tighten.
“My cute little elf's bein' so good for me tonight,” he hummed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “Mmmn, you're squeezin' me so tight, baby...”
The Christmas tree lights -soft golds and reds and greens- painted a kaleidoscope across his bare chest, catching the sheen of sweat that glistened along his collarbones. And god, the way he looked at you. Like you were the prettiest present he'd ever unwrapped.
“Haahhn~ t-too deep- !” Your voice cracked into something high and whiny.
“Shhh, shh shh, I got you.” His murmur ghosted against your lips, and there it was- that flash of tenderness beneath all that filthy intent. His large palm cupped your cheek, thumb stroking so gently, like you were something precious.
Because you were. God help him, you were everything.
The scent of the sugar cookies you'd baked together earlier hung in the air- the ones he'd “taste tested” by licking frosting off your fingers before bending you over the kitchen counter. Now here you were, sprawled beneath the glittering tree, the sparkly red ribbon he'd pulled from a gift box wound loosely around your wrists. More decorative than restrictive.
You could slip free if you wanted.
You absolutely didn't want to.
“Fffuuck, you feel like heaven,” Gojo groaned, his snowy lashes fluttering as he sank into you to the hilt. The ornaments clinked softly on their branches from the force of it, “pretty little pussy just suckin' me in, huh? Greedy baby wants her Christmas present that bad?”
“Mmnph~ y-yesh-“ The word came out slurred, stupid with pleasure.
He laughed- actually laughed, bright and genuine, even as his cock twitched inside you, “God, you're adorable. C'mere.”
Strong hands slid beneath your shoulders, pulling you up against his chest until you were in his lap, straddling him, his cock somehow even deeper like this. The new angle punching a broken “Ahhhhn~!” from your throat.
“Gonna fill you up so nice, babygirl,” he whispered against your temple, pressing a kiss there, then another to your cheekbone, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. So sweet. So gentle. Even as his hips snapped up hard enough to make you bounce. “Make sure my pretty little elf has a belly full of me, yeah? Best present I could give ya.”
“Nnngh~ hahh~ S-Satoru, m'close-!!”
“Yeah?” One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat. The other reached toward the tree, plucking a candy cane from a low branch. The wrapper crinkled as his teeth tore it open, “Open up for me first, sweetheart. Lemme see that pretty tongue.”
You obeyed instantly -of course you obeyed- mouth falling open, tongue extending like the good girl you were, eyes hazy and half-lidded. His grin turned absolutely wicked as he pressed the thick end of the candy cane past your lips, sweet peppermint coating your tongue immediately. You suckled obediently, cheeks hollowing, and his beautiful blue eyes went dark.
“Look at you,” he breathed, something almost reverent in his voice, “my perfect little present.”
He watched, transfixed, as you lapped at the striped candy -tongue swirling, drool and sticky sweetness glossing your lips- all while his cock kept splitting you open, each thrust making you whimper around the treat.
“You have no idea how pretty you look right now.” Gojo's composure finally cracked, his pace turning desperate, “Suckin' on that candy while I wreck this perfect pussy- nngh, shit, baby, m'gonna-“
His hand left your hair. Both palms kneading your ass now, tilting you into each thrust, each one making you wail around the candy cane.
“C'mon, cum for me,” he demanded, breathless and ruined, “cum on my cock and I'll give you everythin' you asked Santa for- ahh fuck, that's it, that's-!!!”
You shattered.
Your walls clenched around him, milking him, begging him without words. The candy fell from your slack mouth as you cried out his name -“SATORU!”- and he followed you over the edge with a groan that rumbled through his whole chest.
Hot. So hot. His cum flooded your fluttering cunt in thick, heavy spurts, painting your insides white as he buried himself impossibly deep.
“Hahh... hahh... shit...”
For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just the soft twinkle of Christmas lights, the distant melody of carols playing from the speaker in the kitchen, and the mingled sounds of your breathing slowly steadying.
Then Gojo pressed his forehead to yours, and that insufferable smirk softened into something almost dopey.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” he murmured, pecking your nose. Your cheek. The corner of your eye where a tear had slipped free from the intensity of it all. “Think you got everything on your list?”
You huffed out a weak laugh, still trembling in the aftermath. “You're... s-such a dork... and ooh my god- your little elf?”
“Mm, your dork though, and I felt how you tightened around me when I called you that- don’t act like you hated it~” He gathered you closer, shifting so he could lean back against the couch behind him without slipping out of you- like he couldn't bear to lose that connection just yet. Like I'd ever let her go, he thought, brushing damp hair from your flushed face. “Also, I’m the dork who just gave you the best Christmas present ever, I might add.”
“Oh my god, Satoru-“
“What! I'm just stating facts!” He grinned, bright and boyish, and kissed the tip of your nose again, “You came so hard you cried!“
You buried your face in his neck to hide your embarrassed groan, but he just laughed -that warm, genuine sound that made your heart ache in the best way- and wrapped both arms around you.
“Hey,” he said softly, after a while.
“Mm?”
“Love you.”
The words came easy, unhurried, like breathing. Like something he'd said a thousand times and would say a thousand more.
You smiled against his skin, boneless and warm and utterly, stupidly happy.
𔓕 ◟⋮ SATORU who loves it when you get all dolled up. ︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑
Maybe it was the only child in him, or maybe it’s the fact that he was spoiled rotten–given whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Or maybe he just liked the idea of your corruption. Whatever the reason, one thing for certain, satoru lives to ruin you.
It never mattered what you were wearing, whether it be a pretty tight dress, or the same sweatpants you’ve worn for the past three days–he’d weasel his way into your pants regardless.
This time, you were fresh out of the shower, wearing a thin tank and loose flannel shorts, underneath, your favorite lacy bra and panties. To any normal person, you were just an innocent girl following your bedtime rituals. To Satoru, you looked like a pink-laced birthday present with his name written all over it. He slips up behind you, long fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts. You knew better than to indulge him, then to let him brush his body up against you, letting him caress you like this.
But you were only human . . . ♡
You were sprawled underneath him, your shirt and bra long discarded onto the floor. Wet kisses and hickeys littered down from your neck, to the swell of your breasts, along your stomach, all the way to the fat of your thighs. He gave you kitten licks up and down the crotch, grinning like the cheshire cat when you squirmed.
“God, baby…” he rasps, hand down his boxers. “You're so cute when you get all dolled up like this. Are these new?” his finger hooked under the lace, tugging it aside so he could plant a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your clit, grinning when you twitched. “And, shit, he whines. “They make her look so fucking pretty.”
Heat rushed up your neck, and instinctively you closed your legs. You loved hated whenever he started talking to your cunt like she, no–it, was listening, but your embarrassment also made him harder.
“Don’t hide from me baby, please” he whined, his teal eyes blown, glossy, and greedy. “What’s the point of dressing up all pretty if you won’t let me have you?”
You wanted to protest and tell him that you were dressed for you, not him. But the sinful way his tongue dragged over your clit had your back arching off the sheets.
“That’s it.” He coos, his voice sugary-slick and ruined. He spreads your legs back open for you, staring at your cunt the way a starving dog would eye a bone. He peels your sticky panties off your hips, letting them pool at your ankles because he was too impatient to take them off properly.
“You’re so sweet f’me, too easy for your own good, y’know that? Letting me do all this–” His mouth seals around your clit, sucking and slurping hard enough to make you touch heaven."–when you swore you didn’t wanna make a, hah, mess.”
Oh he was babbling utter nonsense, drunk on your pussy. You weren’t much better though, as your hands tangled into his crystalline mop of hair, tugging him face-deep in your cunt. He laughs, the vibrations like a lightning bolt of your spine. “So-so easy, fuck, I could eat you forever.” His words blurred into your skin, his chin shiny with you.
When you finally broke, your legs clasped over his head, but he still didn’t stop. It was pathetic, he was face-first, drowning in your essence like it was an infinity pool. When he was finally, finally full, he pulled back just enough to get a good look at you: lips swollen, skin fever hot and eyelashes lined with tears.
“t-too much ‘toru,” you whine, your body still twitching.
He kissed your clit again, but this time, he sticks two of his fingers inside, slow and deliberate, before flashing you that shit-eating grin.
“Don't pout, pretty,” He hummed, bringing his slick-coated fingers to your mouth and squeezing your cheeks together coax you to open. You suck your own cum off him, tongue twisting and weaving between his two fingers. He pulls back, his eyes blazing with a dark perversity. “You love it when I ruin you.”
Your boyfriend has been waiting for this moment, but when you see what he's packing!? You're a hundred percent sure this just won't work, he just simply won't fit. But Satoru Gojo is anything if not one to make sure he wins - and that includes proving you wrong.
pairings - Satoru x reader
warnings - MDNI -size difference, oral (f receiving) fingering, lots of foreplay, he literally is way too big, tummy bulges, creampies, cumplay, spitting, mild degradation/praise, obsessed/ pussy-drunk Satoru
this was a commission piece for @nyxiiiu hehe, and it's an absolutely filthy oneshot - 4k wc - enjoyy! <3 art is by @camy__min on X
“It’s not gonna work,” you’d said it the moment you saw it – Satoru Gojo’s pretty cock – for the first time. “There’s just no way.”
He’d laughed softly, his cock thick and veiny, length slapping his flat belly button then just hanging there so heavy, white drizzles of pre leaking down out of his pretty pink tip. Your core tensed, thinking of the ways he’d just ruin your insides, fuck your uterus up with that damn thing.
You love Satoru, you love his body too, and fuck you want him – you’re always soaking wet any time he kisses you, but there’s just no way that will work. Satoru sighs, seeing your apprehension, he’s got his hands cupping your face almost gently. Even as you shake your head, studying that thick, lengthy cock with wide eyes.
“Baby…”
“Oh no, Toru there’s no way you get that in me, maybe the tip at best!? And I’m not even sure that will.” Your thumb brushes over the tip, swollen, cock so thick your fingers can’t even wrap it completely. “You’re too big!”
“This is a man’s dream," he’s grinning all proud, but when you shake your head again he sighs. “Sure it will, sweetheart, just lemme work my magic.”
“Magic? Mnh!”
Spreading your thighs wide, long fingers slip through the mess that’s pooling out of your soppy hole, your hips jerk up in response. “Mhm – look, she already wants me inside her.”
“Of c-course she does,” you barely manage to breathe the words out, nipples puckered for one of his hands to brush against. “She just can’t, you’re too – ah!”
He’s spitting a gossamer trail down to your puffy lips, it lingers before it disintegrates and lands right on your cunt with a bubbly trail. You could swear Satoru’s grin has become even more psychotic with those sharp white teeth, his blue eyes brilliant and bright, kissing a trail down your body slowly, between your breasts, over your tummy, and lower.
“Aw, she loves it,” he cooes those words practically, spreading those folds and flicking his tongue on your clit. Your hands entangle in his white silky locks, feeling his plump mouth smile on your overheated skin. “Look how cute she is.”
The first wet flick makes even more arousal just pool out of your hole, slick and glittery for his eyes to feast on. They dilate at the sight of your cunt spasming around nothing, he watches it wink at him, watches it clench. He moans softly at how fucking pretty it is.
His eyes dart up to your arching body, gripping a tit while his tongue teases your hole, slipping in, squeezing your tits when they gently bounce with the jerky little motion, your reactions so evident. His breath ghosts teasingly over your cunt again, your flavor earning him even harder, rutting his cock against his mattress, dying to be buried deep in you.
“She can take it,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss on your cunt and smiling up at you. “I just know she can.
No, she couldn’t.
Satoru Gojo has been down there for half an hour between your thighs, working your little hole and stretching it on his huge, thick fingers. He started slowly – with just one – and even that hit you so deep you were crying out, so deep just those almost hit your cervix. You’re spasming and drooling down his fingers, now he’s got two fingers slotted inside your slippery walls, curling them up.
He’s been stretching you and trying to work you so that he can fit inside, but every ten minutes when he presses his tip in again to test, it just doesn’t fit. He’s sweating, a little sheen of perspiration on his brow, lifting your thigh and resting it on his shoulder, thick pink tip just drooling white drips as he rubs it up and down your slit, trying tentatively again.
“Fuck,” he’s breathless, shaky on top of you, you’re soaked, your thighs trembling on either side of his narrow hips, he almost busts just getting into your tight ring of muscles, only to be blocked again. “Your pussy, she’s too fuckin’ small for it.”
“Me!? No, you’re too big for me!”
“I didn’t think I’d have this much trouble,” he mumbles, brows drawing together, you cry out and whine when he tries to press in, gripping him so tightly he has to pull it back out, watching your hole drool down, moaning in frustration. “Loosen up, pretty please?”
“Satoru, I am,” you’re exhaling, trying to relax your muscles, but every time he starts to stretch you out it burns, his cock is even thickening more. “Make it stop being so… it’s getting bigger!?”
“Well fuck you feel s’good,” he grumbles, flipping you on your knees now, you gasp as he presses your back down. “Let’s try this, I’ll make you cum again first.”
“It’ll never fit – ngh! S-Satoruuu!” He almost cums just hearing your muffled cries, pressing you down by your pretty face, hand entangled in the nape of your neck, fingers moving up and down, up and down, pressure building in your core.
“That’s it,” he feels her loosening again, your ass arching up, but he doesn’t try again yet, even as his cock is fucking aching, a sticky mess from dying to fill you and being unable to. He exhales, two fingers pressing up until you gush. “There you go, cum just f’me.”
“S-satoru,” your head falls to the side, his fingers slip to your clit and roll in little circles, moaning your name in your ear, tickling the sensitive skin as he blows little baby hairs around. “Mnh!”
“Let’s try this position, hmm?” You nod eagerly, and he’s able to at least get his tip in, the sound of a filthy suctioned pop echoing in Satoru’s room – as it pushes past your entrance.
Oh fuck…
Satoru is gonna cum.
He closes his eyes and tenses – how embarrassing!? He’s not inexperienced but the size difference from his cock to your tight cunt is too much, it’s grippin’ him too good, he tests it and pushes more though, and you tighten up again, gasping.
“Too much, too much!”
“I’m like not even two inches in,” he says, all breathy, pulling out and pushing in again, only fucking you with that pink tip and nothing else. “Fuck you’re doing too much, s-stop.”
“Me!?” You glare back at your boyfriend, pulling off and making him hiss, cock so sensitive. “Y-you’re too much!”
Satoru’s blue eyes flutter shut, a whimper escaping his mouth. “Stop trying to push him out, your pussy is mean.”
You giggle breathlessly, pushing him out again, gasping when you feel him pulse. “Mnh, I made it worse.”
“You did,” his hips jerk – pressing his cock experimentally inside your hole, moaning then. “You’re squeezin’ me too tight, my god.”
Satoru’s cheeks flush, resting his head as his huge, lanky body looms over yours, pulling you further back, hearing your little moan in his ears. He’s never felt something this good, the grip just begging for his cum, as if your cunt was milking him then and there.
“Stop trying to knock yourself up before I even get in,” he bites your shoulder and you giggle again, before crying out, feeling a half inch more in your walls. “I will not bust quick our first time.”
“It’ll never work though,” you’re moaning as he presses in again, deeper this time, stretching you open so much you feel like you’re split in half. “Oh god, you’re too deep, t-too much!”
Satoru looks down, leaning back – he’s got maybe two and a half inches in your puffy cunt. He sighs, gripping your ass cheeks, watching the slick mess run down his veiny length, dripping down balls so heavy that they’re tensing, tightening.
“Not even a quarter of me is in your cunt.”
“Seriously!?” He flips you over again, back on your back with your thighs up, slipping two fingers and spitting down on them, swirling the mess and making your cunt click with every little circle. “Mnh!”
“I’ll fit, I swear, no way I don’t get to feel her around me,” he murmurs, slipping a third finger impossibly, you tighten up, earning a smack with his free hand on your pussy. “Relax, sweetheart.”
“Can’t do three - ngh!” You’re spasming while he gently and easily inserts that third finger, holding your thighs up so you can’t clamp down. You’re gripping those rumpled sheets, body trembling, cunt making a mess. “Oh my god…”
“There you are,” he murmurs, praying that he can just get inside you, like a cruel joke to make you both so anatomically incompatible. “Look at us.”
He grips your chin, forcing you to look at his tip slipping in and out of your hole, teasing her with it then pulling back, a messy slippery trail falling out with the motion. He uses the pads of his thumbs to hold your swollen folds apart, eyeing the stretch. You suck in a breath, feeling the sting and tightening up as a cock too thick to even exist pushes inside you again.
“Breathe sweetheart,” he murmurs softly, feeling you relax around him and exhaling in relief as you do. Your hands slip up his chest, nails digging into his shoulders while his own fingers digging into your hips roughly, trying to keep himself together. “Eventually I’ll watch this tummy move with my cock.”
“Wha- ah!” You’re lost when Satoru pushes inward, you hear your own gasp, the slick squelch of your pussy as he moves, moaning and leaning back, watching another inch disappear impossibly.
His fingers slip down your trembling thigh, that thumb brushing your twitchy clit, already overstimulated, you’re tensing at the sensation, seeing the filthy sight of his cock pulsing, veins slick from you. You’re trying to tense at it – the thick invasion taking you over, not even half of Satoru – and you swear he’s breaking you.
"Shhh," he murmurs, circling slow, relentless pressure right where you needed it most. "Just focus on that, on your cute little clit."
You arch into his touch, the burn of your stretched cunt easing when you focus, eyes fluttering shut. You feel yourself getting wetter, that hot arousal tricking down him, thumb slipping off for a moment how wet you are. “Oh, mnh! Y-you’re so deep!”
“Yeah,” he’s half in, smirking now as he grips your thigh, glossy with your own messy slick. His cock throbs inside you when you grip him again, spasming this time. His lashes flutter shut, pulling out and still toying your clit. “Ah- ah, don’t tighten up, stop being a brat.”
“Brat?” You giggle, just making him pulse again, but you relax enough he can get a little more inside you, leaning over you now. You feel it – that fullness low in your belly, pressing against your gummy walls that are trying to suck him in. “Y-you’re distracting me…”
“Mhm,” he smirks, far too fucking attractive, pulling out almost completely with a filthy, messy sound, easing back in with his cock pressing easier, watching your tummy move and groaning, hands bruising on your hips. “And you said it wouldn’t work.”
You look down and blush furiously, watching the rise and fall as his cock fills you so full you can’t think, you see there’s still a few inches he can’t get in. Just that wrecks you, tip dragging against your spot. He loses it then, going fucking feral – his eyes are so bright with those shrunken pupils it’s hard to look into them. His lids get heavy, weight pressing over you, thigh shoved up.
“Feel s’fucking perfect,” he’s whispering, a hand cupping your face sinking deeper in your snug little hole. “Stretching her out, huh? Do you feel me?”
You can only nod, eyes rolling back for a moment as he drags that spot again, heavy swollen cockhead pressing until it’s against your cervix. “Ah!”
Satoru’s trying so hard not to slam his cock into you, bottom out and drag your ass to him – use you – but he knows you are just barely taking him in without those damn muscles pressing him right back out. He just can’t stop himself from it when he kisses you messy, when he spits in your open mouth and your tongue is out, thighs shaking.
He shoves them up and folds you in half, getting the best view of those puffy lips all glossy, your hole stretched beyond its means, groaning at the sight. “Look at your tiny cunt getting ruined by me.”
You see it, the moment Satoru gets pussy drunk, but you can’t focus when he slams his cock so deep it hurts, cock gliding in and out easier and easier with how messy you get. You’re gasping out, he’s just grinning, now those damn eyes are black, huge hands pressing your thighs until they smush against your breasts, weight pinning them down.
“Perfect, just look at her, she wants me to ruin her, wants my shape, only mine… fuck…”
“T-toru I… ah!” You can’t talk or form a thought when the sounds of skin smacking and your squelching, sloppy cunt fill the room – mixing with that ache in your core, body shaking as you take more and more. “Ngh!”
“Gonna fill you with s’much cum baby,” he’s chuckling, even buried deep, leaning over you, silky white hair falling over a brow. “That what you want, to drip me all day long?”
You gasp out at the filthy vision, a flush decorating your cheeks that makes him murmur – cute – fucking into you until he bottoms out, balls smacking your ass where the arousal is pooling. “Ah- ah- f-fuc- I… ngh, s’deep!”
You’re too fucked out once that cock wrecks your insides, feeling him everywhere while folded into a mean mating press, your knees damn near on either side of your head, cunt sucking him so good. “Hah, look she can take me, she’s trying so hard, squeezing me – ah.”
Satoru doesn’t stop the babbling that spills from his mouth, a mix of praise, degradation and whimpers.
‘Feel s’fuckin’ perfect baby’ – ‘Slutty hole, she’s so greedy’ – ‘You’re so pretty, god…’ –‘Mnh, does that feel good sweetheart? Hah, of course it does’
Satoru is completely psychotic, lost and on another plane of existence, your cunt is just milking him too good, your pretty eyes glimmering with tears as they try to roll back. Pussy drunk and lost in every sound, every movement.
“Gonna put so much cum inside you, hah…” he chuckles now, letting your thighs ease just a fraction so he can rest his forehead almost lovingly. “M’gonna make sure to fuck it back into you, then fill you up again, aw do you like that?”
You barely nod, he grins against your lips, cock pressing deep and just staying, rolling his hips to nudge his pretty drooly tip, the pressure unbearable. “Toru!”
“You can still talk?” You’re lost in it, as fucked out as he is when he cups your face with your thighs still shoved up, kissing you sloppy messy, cock grinding into your cervix when he finally bottoms out as much as he can. He swallows your gasps with his plump lips, his open mouth, you swallow his moans, struggling for a breath.
He’s dragging his cock head against your cervix over and over, torturous little fucking circles with so much pressure, your nails slip into the skin on his back, leaving little crescent moons. Satoru groans at that, laughing softly.
“Gonna mark me up?” Your nails dig in deeper, leaving their marks, almost drawing blood while that sharp pleasure hits, and you feel yourself about to fade, more intense than his fingers, his mouth even.
“M’gonna… mmnph,” you’re drooling as he slams his thick length in and out of your now sloppy little hole, pummelling it with every snap of his hips, making sure you feel him everywhere. You tighten up and he groans, brushing your hair back and easing up.
“So fuckin’ pretty like this, aww sweets you’re drooling.”
He taunts you, strokes getting slower, like he’s not letting you have it, your thighs pressing tightly then, his thumb swiping the dribbles from your chin. Your pupils are blown out, lips parted, cunt just fuckin’ spasming as if she’s ready for him to cum, but not just yet.
He slowly rolls his hips, fingers dimpling the flesh of your thighs, breath ghosting against your lips – swollen from his kisses. “Gonna cum, aren’t you baby?”
You nod in a jerky little motion, unsure how he expects you to even talk, but the nod is enough for his cocky grin, one more roll of his hips that drags on your spot, white hair tickling your exposed clit with how he has you split open. You cry out as the sharp pleasure builds so fast, thighs shaking uncontrollably against him, tears slipping out of your eyes.
“Toru, I’m – nghh, f-fuc- I’m-”
He leans up to get a perfect view of you, driving that fat cock into your stretched, abused little hole, mean with it now – pushing you over the edge. “That’s it, that’s my girl,” he whispers, words making his breath ghost against your skin. “Cum f’me, milk me dry, take all of me in your pretty little cunt.”
Satoru’s balls are coated in your slick, heavy and full, feeling you shatter for him, watching your pretty face with a well satisfied fucked out look on his face, exhaling, gripping you at your waist. He eases your legs to the sides of his hips as you scream out, eyes rolling back in your skull, fucking you through it slow and easy.
“There you go,” he murmurs, taking your fingers and slipping them between you both. You whine out, overstimulated. “Touch it, be good f’me, after she tried so hard not to let me in.”
“Already c-came,” you whimper out pathetically, but Satoru’s not quite done with you, leaning back you watch your fingers slip. “Too wet, mnh!”
“You can cum again,” he orders softly now, sadistic little undertone, his snowy lashes lowering in a movement that makes him look angelic and not the slutty freak he is. “Wanna feel it again, please sweetheart.”
Now he’s needy, desperately watching your movements, your hand stops moving when pleasure hits sharp again, but Satoru moves it for you, watching you fall apart, tacky walls clamping down. He fucks you through your aftershocks until you’re delirious, ready to pass out – drooling with your eyes fluttering shut, but he tilts your chin up with long fingers, making you gasp out.
“Look at me when I fill you up,” he orders, all soft and sweet like he’s not a filthy brat, sucking your little finger into his mouth and moaning around it, making your eyes try to open, but you’re twitching, a mess. “That’s it, such a good girl takin’ me like this, are you ready f’me to pump your cunt so full?”
You nod weakly, and he presses one more time before crying out in your ear – a mix of your name and a desperate little whimper from the six foot four man that’s splitting you apart. His cock throbs and impossibly thickens, heat floods you instantly, so much cum that it’s pouring, coating all of your walls with white.
“Oh f-fuck, take it,” he murmurs, voice breaking with how good your pussy feels just sucking him up. His fingers press into your hips, groaning desperately, lips slipping up your neck – hot, uneven little breaths as more pumps in.
You’re so full, hot warmth spreading with how much cum he’s pouring into you, and more spurts out, trickling down his sticky cock, still hard. “Oh m-my… I… you’re still…”
“I have so much for you, don’t worry,” he chuckles, pulling back and still buried deep, now you feel that pressure again, your cunt trying to clamp down, hips twitching as his cum and yours slips down in strands of white. “You think that’s all, no baby, you deserve all my cum inside you.”
Satoru kisses you slowly, lips pressing yours apart, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, saliva dripping as he moves just a bit, and you’re gasping out. “S-sensitive!”
“I know, sweetheart s’okay,” he pulls out and looks and the fucking filthy mix of both of you, more cum pumping white and milky when he strokes his slick cock. “Hah, slutty cunt is so beat up.”
You can’t tell if he’s sweet or evil.
You hiss as he rubs that shiny pink tip up and down your puffy folds, moaning out at the sight of you. Bruises forming from his fingertips, marks from where his teeth had slid into your skin, lips bitten and swollen. His fingers slide between your thighs, slick with cum traced through your folds, toying with the white creamy mixture and smirking while you twitch and jerk.
“Thought I couldn’t fit?” He raises one of those thin white brows, you manage to shake your head, he gathers his mess and holds up his fingers. “God, look at us together, finally.”
Satoru Gojo is a freak, you knew this when he begged to eat your pussy the moment he met you, and when he would make sure to finger you every chance he got – didn’t matter where. Yet the sight of the light catching those drips of both of you is obscene, and when he puts those thick long fingers in his mouth and sucks?
You don’t even know what sound you make. It’s pornographic, a desperate whine as your cunt tries to recover, and his cheeks hollow.
“Mmm,” he moans as if it’s the best tasting thing – his own cum. “Sweetheart you need to taste this.”
Satoru slips two fingers into your mouth ordering – suck – with a soft voice, those damn eyes just a ring of blue surrounded by the fringe of white. You do as he orders, tasting the salty tang on your tongue. Your eyelashes flutter, sucking him and holding his huge hand.
“Such a good girl, you did so well taking me,” he murmurs, pulling those fingers back, but suddenly his hands clamp onto your waist – lifting you like you’re fucking nothing.
“Mnh! What are you doing!?” You demand, when he’s got you flipped over on top of him, eyeing your tummy and measuring with his fingers. “Toru…”
“I think I’ll hit right here…” He murmurs, dragging you down on that huge cock you barely got to fit to begin with. He lifts you up, your knees sliding against the silk sheets that are embarrassingly wet from you.
“I can’t take you like this,” you grumble, earning his cute little blush on perfect cheekbones. “I can’t! Stop looking all cute like you’re not a deviant.”
“Baby please lemme watch you take me,” he lifts you high. “Put me there.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you huff, already a quivering mess, cunt drooling as you position him there, feeling your stretched out cunt aching. “Oh god…”
“You can take me now, I know it,” he’s literally your slutty cheerleader, batting those lashes with the cutest smile, silvery hair falling over his brow. “Come on, show me what you can do. You’re so good you know.”
“Suck up,” you mumble, but you start to take him, inch by inch, until he angles you so you fall on his cock, stuffing you full again, even more intense. Your nails dig into the perfect skin of his chest as this deviant just grins.
“See?” He touches your belly button, chuckling now.
“S-see what!? Mnh!” He just smiles, fucked out as your cunt drools his own cum down in rivulets of white, pooling on his abdomen and making that white happy trail slick.
“I hit here, I knew it,” he’s measuring something like a psycho, sighing and looking up at you lovingly, hands trailing down your hips until he grips your ass, dragging you down, making you boat moan. “Wonder if I can fit it all inside you like this.”
There’s more inches!?
Oh hell no.
Satoru is so sillyyy I love him hehe
Patreon for more exclusive fics - Kofi link (sommission info there!)
you’re curled up on the couch, bowl of cherries balanced on your knees, minding your own business. the movie’s on, but you’re not really watching. mostly just enjoying the peace. until gojo flops down beside you with his full six-foot-whatever like gravity doesn’t apply to him and promptly steals a cherry like it belongs to him.
you glare but he grins.
“you didn’t even ask.”
he just plucks the stem off, pops the cherry in his mouth, and talks around it. “i never ask.”
you roll your eyes and nudge him with your knee. “i was saving that one.”
he swirls the pit around, tongue moving lazily behind his teeth. “you can have the next one.” then he reaches into the bowl again, fingers brushing yours like it’s an accident, and pulls out another.
but this time, he doesn’t eat it right away.
he pops it in. chews, swallows. and then—
his tongue starts working the stem.
he doesn’t look at you. doesn’t say anything. just leans back, jaw shifting a little, tongue moving behind his lips. you catch the faintest flicker of concentration in his brow. lazy, confident, completely infuriating.
then he sticks out his tongue. the cherry stem is tied. tight. neat. looped perfectly.
your mouth goes dry.
he looks at you finally, bright-eyed, smug as hell. “impressed?”
you blink. “you practiced that.”
he shrugs. “maybe once or twice. for educational purposes.”
he leans in, real close, voice dropping to a purr. “wanna see what else i’m good at with my mouth?”
you throw a pillow at him but he dodges, still laughing, still leaning in way too close.
“what? you started it,” he says, flashing teeth, tossing the tied stem into your lap like it’s some kind of trophy.
you glare at it then back at him, but his grin only widens.
“keep it,” he says, winking. “something to remember me by when i’m not blowing your mind.”
he gets another pillow to the face for that one—but you keep the stem.
note: can any of u guys do this too, i can hehe !! and also i'm still sick i have 0 motivation to write soo tadaaaa this is all i have (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞
Ridiculously so - of course he himself is huge... you wonder if it's everywhere, as he taps his thigh, and your lips part, tummy clenching with need for him, breath caught in your throat.
"Need something, sweets?" He asks so casually, smiling at you as you sit across from him, clearing your throat.
"No. No I'm sorry..." Fuck how long are his fingers!? Five inches?? More...
He chuckles a little, leaning forward, fingers slipping down off his thighs now, as he gathers up wads of cash to pay you. He surprised you when he started buying weed, him the star student at college.
But the two of you have become cool. You - the little stoner weeb, him - the straight laced perfect student. His fingers so long and thick are ruining you and your ovulation brain, as he counts the money.
"How much for this again-"
"How long are your fingers?"
He blinks a bit then, smirking at you, raising a brow behind those obnoxious shades he loves to wear. "Huh?"
"Shit... nothing..." Satoru sets the money down then, leaning forward, so close you heat up, tummy clenching and heating up. "That was so rude, I'm sorry..."
"How long are they?" He repeats, blue eyes lidded, when they brush up your thigh, elgant long fingers leaving goosebumps in their trail, making you tremble. "That what you ask?"
"N-no!? I mean..." He chuckles softly, some of that snowy hair falling over a brow, thick fingers even higher. "Maybe?"
"Long enough to hit that spot," you bite your lower lip, legs pressing together. "Or... probably long enough to hit your cervix."
Fuck.
"Would you like a demonstration, for research purposes?" His voice is like honey, his lips twitching at the corners, pink plump ones you want all over your body. "Of how long they are?"
That's how you end up with two of Satoru Gojo's long fingers buried inside your cunt, plunging all the way to the knuckle and curling up. He's knelt right between your thighs on that old suede couch of yours, pressure hitting as he moves them up and down, up and down, a hand braced on one side of you, that tie tickling your skin, earning your tug.
"F-fuck..." You're clinging to one of his veiny forearms, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut, pulling on that tie with a clenched fist, the other slipping down his veiny forearm.
"You're this wet just thinkin' about my fingers? Hah," he's smirking down at you, curling them mean and deep, making you gasp out. "I dunno, how many inches ya think? More than any dick you've had?"
"Shit you're conceited," he just grins, pausing those like he's gonna yank 'em out before you get to cum. "Y-yes. Don't stop. Fuck... all the weed you want."
"All I want, hmm? Better make you cum real good then," he whispers, starting to scissor them in and out of your syrupy folds, making you clench around him. He sucks in a breath, eyes locking. "Hah - ya gonna cum this quick sweetheart?"
"Mnh!" He's hitting your spots with expert precision, working you so good you're about to shatter, gasping out with every plunge of those thick digits in your messy hole - the word sweetheart doing shit to your brain.
"Easiest weed ever, making you cum like this," he whispers, leaning low. "I'll still pay though."
"W-why?" You manage to squeak out, as his lips hover an inch from yours, fingers scissoring faster, your cunt a drooling mess that he can't wait to bury his cock into.
"Because. I'm rich sweetheart," he looks at you under those snowy lashes, curling both fingers up in your gummy walls, making you scream out, back arching. He doesn't say the real reason - that he should be paying you for the privilege of getting his fingers deep in your hole. "Go ahead, cum for me pretty."
You're done for.
Nerdy, perfect Satoru Gojo has you gushing and dripping as your orgasm hits. His thumb from his other hand brushes your nipple, lips kissing down your throat, his glasses fogging up just a bit from the condensation of his breath, tickling your skin and making you pulse.
"Fuckkk," the word escapes so languidly from the back of your throat, the smoke you'd had earlier just enhancing how fucking good you feel. "Gonna... ah - gonna cum againnn!"
"So easy f'me," he murmurs, talking cocky even as his cock twitches, heated cheeks from just how pretty you are like this. Sweat on your brow while your cunt gets louder, messier, a creamy ring on his knuckles. "Greedy girl, go ahead, fuck yourself on them."
You're shameless, arching up your hips to do just that, cunt gushing and spasming, nails digging into his forearm now and making him hiss. "Ngh!"
"Would ya look at that," he huffs, lips sucking your throat now, right where your pulse flutters, feeling you cum again and wanting it to milk him dry. "There you go, doing s'good too."
He's talking you through it, leaning up and running his fingers through your soppy folds, moaning when you twitch and spasm underneath him. "Oh my god..."
He chuckles like this was easy or normal, slipping two fingers out of your messy cunt with a pop before slurping your slick right off his fingers. Your mouth drops, gasping at the filthy sight.
He sees fucking hearts in your eyes then.
"Mmm..." He moans and licks more of your embarrassing amount of cum off, before gripping your chin with his clean hand. "Open."
You open eagerly, and preppy, nerdy Satoru Gojo spits your cum in it, right on your tongue.
Oh fuck.
Your cunt has a heart beat. Your eyes have hearts in them... Are you fucked dumb and in love from Gojo's fingers!?!?
"So cute," he languidly says, leaning down and pressing a messy kiss on your clit, you whimper, hips jerking from the little brush, he parts those puffy lips and eyes it. "All jumping around. Aww."
"I... you... um..." You're done for, brain short circuiting, he helps you up and fixes your strap with the two fingers that were inside you, his lips glossy with your cum.
"So, how long do you think they are?"
You blush furiously, girl math isn't mathing. "Five inches?"
He spreads his fingers, contemplating. "Six I think. Small in comparison to..." He trails off, grabbing the cash, you shove it at him, shaking your head.
"No. Free weed. Take all of it."
He chuckles now. "Well, I'll have to give that clit attention next time then, as a thank you," he teases, kissing you and tasting your cunt mixed with cherry lip gloss and a hint of purp. "Thank you, sweetheart."
"Fuck, thank you..." He walks out with a smile, adjusting his nerdy cute little tie, when you light up a blunt and melt against the couch.
Your next question?
"How big is your -"
inspired by a tiktok thirst trap from @yenayaps thank her hehe <3
the lower half of his face was glistening, the smacking of his lips against yours mingling with the heavenly sound of your overstimulated moans. his cerulean eyes were closed in bliss, occasionally opening to glance up at your face contorted in pleasure – your bottom lip captured by your top teeth, eyes rolled back, eyebrows drawn together.
you aren’t sure how long you have been sprawled out on the bed, legs feeling sore due to being held open by his large hands pushing your thighs apart. and you aren’t sure how his jaw isn’t hurting from devouring you, his tongue running up and down, in and out; his lips sucking and kissing. He has drawn out so many delicious orgasms from you that you have lost count.
“stop squirmin’,” he murmurs against your heat, sending vibrations through your core. you whine softly, feeling sensitive to the lightest touches.
“can’t…” you pant, trailing off due to your ability to talk being snatched away after around the fourth orgasm.
“can’t what? can’t stop squirming? or can’t talk? can’t take any more for me?” the smirk is obvious in his husky voice – he knows the answer is “yes” to all of those questions. but he doesn’t seem to care as he uses his index and middle fingers to spread your cunt further out for him, licking up from your entrance to your clit. he rapidly flicks his tongue against the swollen and sensitive bud, making you writhe even more than before. incoherent words strung together into a jumbled sentence leave your lips as one of your hands grasp at the, once pristine, sheets and the other roughly tugs his snowy hair, eliciting a grunt from him. “can’t get enough of you, pretty girl. was craving you all day, all i wanted was to bury my head between these thighs and taste you again and again… and again. fuck, i wanna marry this pussy.”
your silver ring glints in the dim light of the lamp in your shared bedroom as your hand flies to grab at something else – something to ground yourself, to prepare yourself for the next overwhelming climax.
the noises of him eating you out are so obscene – loud slurping and smacking of his lips, the sound of him spitting onto your already wet core, and don’t even mention the squelching when he thrusts two of his fingers inside, the schlop, schlop, schlop. your back arches off of the bed when his fingers stroke your walls and that sweet spot he always immediately finds, whilst alternating between flicking and sucking your clit with his tongue. your mouth falls open in a silent moan, eyes rolled back.
“you gonna cum f’me?” he asks, moving with precision and speed. He stares up at you again, smirking against your pussy as your body shakes and convulses, and feels as if it’s going to explode. “gonna make a mess like the dirty girl you are?”
he suddenly feels your walls contracting tightly around his lithe fingers and a sudden wetness that gushes out of your pussy, making yet another mess on his face and he groans. your release crashed over you so abruptly that even you couldn’t sense it coming, but it left you squirming under his touch and crying out his name. glistening tears run down your flushed cheeks as you try to push him away from your very, very sensitive pussy, but you have no strength left in your body. each of your orgasms gradually made your limbs jelly and your brain mush.
“you really are a dirty girl, huh? such a slut for dirty talk.” he licks his lips clean, his chin still dripping with your juices. he lifts his head to get a good look at you, and when he shuffles up the bed to tower over your panting form, you feel relieved that he’s stopped. “such a pretty girl, too. my pretty girl. with the prettiest pussy.”
his lips mould with yours when he leans down and you weakly kiss him back, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. you gaze hazily at him once he pulls away and stares down at you with yet another smirk, his lips swollen from the devouring he’s done for hours.
“i hope you know i’m not done yet. i don’t know if my craving is ever going to be satiated.” he trails kisses down your cheek, to your jaw, neck, collarbone. when he gets to your boobs, he sucks and bites and then, kisses the spots he bruised with his marks. he earns a few sighs of delight from you as he continues to move down your body, littering your skin with kisses and marks before he ends up back between your thighs.
“please… can’t take anymore… so sensitive,” you say with a whine when he presses a kiss to your clit. It makes your hips jerk in overstimulation. “no more…”
“oh, baby, but you sound so sweet when you’re all sensitive and overstimulated for me... your whines drive me crazy. i’ve cum in my boxers about two times already, just from eating you out... i wanna live right here, between your thighs.” he moans when he dives back in, licking at your slit to gather your juices on his tongue, tasting you to his satisfaction. he’s addicted and it shows – he looks as blissful as you do and he isn’t gaining any direct pleasure. yet, his boxers are soaked from his own cum.
he’s licking and sucking at your pussy, barely giving you a break to breathe. he thinks you taste heavenly, completely drugged up from your juices smeared across the lower half of his face and his nose, which nudges your clit deliciously.
“too muchhhh…!” you whine. but your pleas and whimpers only give him the drive to keep going.
“one more time… just one more. want this pretty pussy to cum on my face again.” his words are slightly slurred as his lips and tongue pleasure your soaking core. that has been about the third time he’s told you one more time, so you don’t believe his words.
fresh tears stream down your flushed cheeks, your chest heaving with pants. your limbs feel too weak to even push him away, allowing him to have his way with you as he continues to devour you like he can’t get enough. your eyes close, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you try to hold back a scream of overstimulation when the tip of his tongue rapidly flicks over your clit.
“ah, ah, no holding back, pretty girl. let me hear you…” he breathes against your cunt. “doing so good for me, just… one more fucking time, please.” his tongue works overtime trying to make you make another mess on his face; he wants his tongue soaked in your honeyed juices again.
you moan out his name, fingers tightly tugging at his locks again, trying to pull him away but also bringing him closer, not knowing what you want. he groans softly against you, his own eyes rolling back.
“listen to her… so wet, so sweet… fuck, what did i do to deserve such a perfect pussy? she’s singing so sweetly.” he’s delirious, drunk on your cunt, rambling into it as he continues to drag his tongue up and down your slit as if he can’t get enough.
he pulls back slightly to look at your weeping hole winking at him, juices dripping out. it’s as if he’s in a trance, eyes glazed over with love and lust as they glue to the sight.
one of his thumbs comes up to rub small circles on your clit, watching the way it winks at him again. it makes him smirk before he dives back in, this time his tongue moves slowly, taking his time savouring you. the tip of his tongue pushes past your folds and he groans deeply at the way your quivering walls pulse around his muscle. he’s so agile even with his tongue, curling it just right while his nose nudges your over-sensitive clit once again.
you consume his senses and he closes his eyes, enjoying your essence on his tastebuds, the sweet, sweet musk of your pussy, and the sound of your crying walls begging for release as he slowly moves his tongue.
almost as if his body is moving automatically, his ministrations speed up and his thumb rubs firm circles on your clit. you shudder with pleasure, fingers tightening in his hair and the sheets again as your thighs threaten to close around his head but his hands quickly push them back down with a determined grip. his head moves energetically between your thighs, quickly bringing you back to the verge of release and you chant his name as if it’s the only word you know.
“g-gonna… cum… wait… ah!” you stutter and moan. with a few more curls and thrusts of his tongue and circles on your bud, you cum almost explosively. your vision blurs, black dots filling your view as your back arches completely off the bed as a strangled moan of his name leaves your mouth.
“mmm, that’s it, pretty girl. let go for me, give me every last drop.”
who knows if gojo's craving was finally fulfilled.
cw (minors please dni): fem!reader, reader's ovulating soo bad and satoru lets you use him, morning sex, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, barely proofread </3
a/n: reader is such a mood
“‘toruuu…” you whisper, hooking your leg over one of satoru’s, your clothed core pressing against his thigh. heat soaks the cotton fabric of your panties, your walls begging to be filled. it's been aching since you woke up.
you get a groan in response, low and laced with fatigue. his elbow is draped over his eyes, blocking out the morning light. “yeah, baby?” he mumbles.
“need you so bad,” you murmur back, your hand boldly trailing down to the waistband of his boxers. there's a stir in his cock from your touch. “i can't wait.”
“mmh… take what you need, baby.” he rolls onto his side, facing you now but his eyes are still closed. so serene.
you don't waste a second before tugging his boxers down just enough, jerking your wrist lazily up and down to bring his cock to life. it doesn't take long. it never takes long with you. he was already starting to twitch in response to your words.
once he's hard and heavy in your palm, you push your soaked panties to the side and glide his tip through your folds, coating him in your sweet, sticky arousal.
another deep groan escapes him at your wet warmth, so desperate for him already. you guide him to your entrance, slowly sinking him into you with a breathy moan, airy and needy.
“fuck, ‘toru…”
“keep going… shit, how are you so wet?” he bites his lip, fluttering his eyes open halfway to look at you. his adam's apple bobs and his cock throbs when he takes in the sight of your glassy eyes and the complete hunger that consumes your gaze.
“want you all the way inside,” you whine, your mouth falling open with each inch your pretty cunt swallows up. “need to-- ngh… need to be stuffed full of you.”
he moans at your desperation, the way you whine and try your hardest to take him all. he grabs your waist, fingers twitching against your skin as he subtly thrusts his hips deeper, helping you sink all the way down on him.
your walls flutter and contract, trying to fit all of him without any prep, your juices soaking his cock and the sheets beneath. it stretches you so sinfully yet deliciously.
“fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he whispers shakily, breath ragged.
a loud whimper rips from your throat once he’s fully buried inside you, a bulge poking through your stomach as you gyrate your hips in a circle to get adjusted to his size. the blunt head of his cock bumps into your sweet spot and you moan his name softly, your palms clammy as your fingers grasp at the sheets.
“so full…” you mewl, slowly beginning to rock your hips on him despite the somewhat awkward position.
he slides a hand down to your ass, grabbing the plush flesh and guiding you to fuck yourself on him. it’s a torturous drag along your walls, his mushroom tip nudging against your spongey g-spot with each thrust in and out, your cloying syrup drenching him in copious amounts.
“there we go, baby… you’re so damn wet. you really needed me so bad, huh?”
you nod lazily, your eyes hazy. one of your hands rest on his nape and you lean in to press a languid kiss to his lips, spit and breathy moans shared within the kiss. a sloppy sway that he eagerly reciprocates.
“already want more. can never get enough of you,” you murmur into the kiss.
he moans softly, closing his eyes again and continuing to thrust leisurely, though precisely. “i’m here. all yours, sweetheart, all yours. hah fuuuck… use me all you w-want, just wanna make you feel good.”
you can’t hold back anymore, wanting to go faster and harder, wanting to fuck yourself dumb on his cock. within seconds, you change positions so that he’s on his back and you’re sitting on his lap, his throbbing length still sheathed inside you.
you move your hips fervently, like an animal in heat, your body searing with a carnal need and moving almost on its own. a choked moan escapes you, your eyes screwed shut as you focus on your only goal to make yourself cum and have him fill you up.
his abs constrict and tense beneath your palms as you use his stomach as leverage to hold yourself up, practically humping him. your clit rubs against his lower abdomen with each grind of your hips, adding that delicious friction, your eyes rolling back as you moan wantonly.
his large hands cup your ass, clenching and digging his fingers into your skin as your sopping cunt clamps down around him, walls moulding to the shape of his dick. he stares up at you, seeing the pure hunger written all over your face as you rock your hips into his, and he twitches within the warm confines of your sweet cunt.
“fuck, ‘toru, ‘toru, ‘toru…” your head is forcibly jerked back, your back arching as you begin to convulse on top of him. “cum for me, please. wanna feel you cum inside me.”
and with your begging so saccharine, who is he to deny you?
“shit, you're gonna make me cum so hard, baby,” he groans, tipping his head back and tightening his grip on your ass that it's bound to leave marks.
he can't help the bucking of his hips, lazy and pathetic, a feral hump into you matching your own movement down on him.
he throbs inside you, body jerking and slightly arching off the mattress with a moan of your name, so ruined and husky. his eyes barely able to stay open as he finally spurts ropes of hot cum inside you, just as you craved.
a whimper of your own is elicited, satisfaction running through you, though it also feeds your feral desperation.
you continue to fuck him through his orgasm, chasing your own. bouncing messily and uncoordinated, a white ring frothing around his base as his release leaks out with each lift of your hips.
satoru’s body trembles slightly, overstimulated yet letting you use him to your heart’s content.
“fuck, baby,” he whimpers, his hips jerking up into yours uncontrollably. he manages to bludgeon your sweet spot clumsily and he groans at the way your walls suffocate his once-again hardening dick. “you close? gonna make a mess on me? c’mon, need to see you cum for me.”
“yesyesyes…” you ramble, teetering on the edge of your peak, seconds away from grabbing onto it, “ah! nngh ‘m gonna cum, g-gonna-- fuck, ‘m cumming…!”
the sight of you convulsing on his lap, your hips twitching non-stop, and your head tossed back with shameless, vulgar moans stuttering out from your mouth is enough to make satoru cum again. subdued, but still there. strings of ivory painting your sticky cunt, adding to the mess of your release and his previous orgasm.
“hah… so good,” you mumble, feeling dazed from the intensity of your high.
as you pant and come down from cloud nine bliss together, he wraps his strong arms around your waist and gently tugs you down to hold you against his chest. he can feel your heart race against his.
he presses a featherlight kiss to your temple, one arm keeping you tethered to him while he lightly runs his fingertips up and down your spine with his other hand.
it's peaceful, intimate. a contrast to the heated morning.
well, that’s until you pull back just enough to look at him with depravity disguised behind a sugary smile. “one more?”
